Mason's "English Garden."
A garden is the purest of human pleasures; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man, without which buildings and palaces are but gross handy-works. And a man shall ever see, that when ages grow to civility and elegance, men come to build stately, sooner than to garden finely: as if gardening were the greater perfection.' VERULAM.
DEDICATION TO SIMPLICITY, THE ARBITRESS.
To thee, divine Simplicity! to thee, Best arbitress of what is good and fair, This verse belongs. O, as it freely flows, Give it thy powers of pleasing: else in vain It strives to teach the rules, from Nature drawn, Of import high to those whose taste would add To Nature's careless graces; loveliest then, When, o'er her form, thy easy skill has taught The robe of Spring in ampler folds to flow. Haste, Goddess! to the woods, the lawns, the vales; That lie in rude luxuriance, and but wait Thy call to bloom with beauty. I, meanwhile, Attendant on thy state serene, will mark Its faery progress; wake th' accordant string; And tell how far, beyond the transient glare Of fickle fashion, or of formal art, Thy flowery works with charm perennial please.
INVOCATION TO POETIC AND ARTISTIC FANCY.
Ye too, ye sister Powers! that at my birth
Auspicious smiled; and o'er my cradle dropped
Those magic seeds of Fancy, which produce
A Poet's feeling, and a Painter's
eye,
Come to your votary's aid. For well ye know
How soon my infant accents lisped the rhyme,
How soon my hands the mimic colors spread,
And vainly strove to snatch a double wreath
From Fame's unfading laurel fruitless aim:
Yet not inglorious; nor perchance devoid
Of friendly use to this fair argument;
If so, with lenient smiles, ye deign to cheer,
At this sad hour,1 my desolated soul.
WHY THE AUTHOR WRITES. — TRIBUTE TO MRS. MASON.
For deem not ye that I resume the strain
To court the world's applause my years mature
Have learned to slight the toy. No, 't is to soothe
That agony of heart, which they alone,
Who best have loved, who best have been beloved,
Can feel, or pity: sympathy severe !
Which she too felt, when on her pallid lip
The last farewell hung trembling, and bespoke
A wish to linger here, and bless the arms
She left for heaven. She died, and heaven is hers!
Be mine, the pensive solitary balm
That recollection yields. Yes, Angel pure !
1 Written shortly after the death of the author's wife.
While Memory holds her seat, thy image still
Shall reign, shall triumph there; and when, as now,
Imagination forms a Nymph divine
To lead the fluent strain, thy modest blush,
Thy mild demeanor, thy unpractised smile
Shall grace that Nymph, and sweet Simplicity
Be dressed (ah, meek Maria !) in thy charms.
ADDRESS TO TRAVELLING ENGLISHMEN OF TASTE.
Begin the Song! and ye of Albion's sons
Attend; ye freeborn, ye ingenuous few,
Who, heirs of competence, if not of wealth,
Preserve that vestal purity of soul [youths,
Whence genuine taste proceeds. To you, blest
I sing; whether in Academic groves
Studious ye rove; or, fraught with learning's stores,
Visit the Latian plain, fond to transplant
Those arts which Greece did, with her Liberty,
Resign to Rome.
LANDSCAPE GARDENING UNKNOWN TO THE ROMANS. -
ITALIAN SCENERY.
Yet know, the art I sing
Ev'n there ye shall not learn. Rome knew it not
While Rome was free. Ah! hope not then to find
In slavish, superstitious Rome the fair
Remains. Meanwhile, of old and classic aid
Tho' fruitless be the search, your eyes entranced
Shall catch those glowing scenes, that taught a
To grace his canvas with Hesperian hues : [Claude
And scenes like these, on Memory's tablet drawn,
Bring back to Britain; there give local form
To each idea; and, if Nature lend
Materials fit of torrent, rock, and shade,
Produce new Tivolis. But learn to rein,
O Youth whose skill essays the arduous task,
That skill within the limit she allows.
NATURE TO BE MENDED, Not made.
Great Nature scorns control: she will not bear One beauty foreign to the spot or soil
She gives thee to adorn: 't is thine alone
To mend, not change her features. Does her hand
Stretch forth a level lawn? Ah, hope not thou
To lift the mountain there. Do mountains frown
Around? Ah, wish not there the level lawn.
Yet she permits thy art, discreetly used,
To smooth the rugged and to swell the plain.
But dare with caution; else expect, bold man!
The injured Genius of the place to rise
In self-defence, and, like some giant fiend
That frowns in Gothic story, swift destroy,
By night, the puny labors of thy day.
NO SPOT ENTIRELY INCAPABLE OF BEAUTY. ART.
What then must he attempt, whom niggard Fate
Has fixed in such an inauspicious spot
As bears no trace of beauty? Must he sit
Dull and inactive in the desert waste,
If Nature there no happy feature wears
To wake and meet his skill? Believe the Muse,
She does not know that inauspicious spot
Where Beauty is thus niggard of her store :
Believe the Muse, through this terrestrial vast
The seeds of grace are sown, profusely sown,
Ev'n where we least may hope: the desert hills
Will hear the call of Art; the valleys dank
Obey her just behests, and smile with charms
Congenial to the soil, and all its own.
THE DESERT IS ONLY WHERE MAN IS NOT; IN BEAUTIFYING
IT, LABOR LEADS ART. THE NEW SETTLER.'
For tell me, where 's the desert? there alone
Where man resides not; or, if 'chance resides, -
He is not there the man his Maker formed,
Industrious man, by heaven's first law ordained
To earn his food by labor. In the waste
Place thou that man with his primeval arms,
His ploughshare, and his spade; nor shalt thou long
Impatient wait a change; the waste shall smile
With yellow harvests; what was barren heath
Shall soon be verdant mead. Now let thy Art
Exert its powers, and give, by varying lines,
The soil, already tamed, its finished grace.
IN BEAUTIFYING A WET DALE, ART LEADS LABOR.
Nor less obsequious to the hand of toil,
If Fancy guide that hand, will the dank vale
Receive improvement meet; but Fancy here
Must lead, not follow Labor; she must tell
In what peculiar place the soil shall rise, [wear,
Where sink; prescribe what form each sluice shall
And how direct its course; whether to spread
Broad as a lake, or, as a river pent
By fringed banks, weave its irriguous way
Through lawn and shade alternate: for if she
Preside not o'er the task, the narrow drains
Will run in tedious parallel, or cut
Each other in sharp angles; hence implore
Her swift assistance, ere the ruthless spade
Too deeply wound the bosom of the soil.
And each has left a blessing as it rolled :
Even then, perchance, some vain fastidious eye
Shall rove unmindful of surrounding charms
And ask for prospect. Stranger! 't is not here.
Go seek it on some garish turret's height;
Seek it on Richmond's or on Windsor's brow;
There gazing on the gorgeous vale below,
Applaud alike, with fashioned pomp of phrase,
The good and bad, which, in profusion there,
That gorgeous vale exhibits.
THE DELL FAVORABLE TO MEDITATION. THE POET. THE
NATURALIST. THE PAINTER.
Here, meanwhile,
Even in the dull, unseen, unseeing dell,
Thy taste contemns, shall Contemplation imp
Her eagle plumes; the Poet here shall hold
Sweet converse with his Muse; the curious Sage,
Who comments on great Nature's ample tome,
Shall find that volume here. For here are caves,
Where rise those gurgling rills, that sing the song
Which Contemplation loves; here shadowy glades,
Where through the tremulous foliage darts the ray
That gilds the Poet's day-dream; here the turf
Teems with the vegetating race; the air
Is peopled with the insect tribes, that float
Upon the noontide beam, and call the Sage
To number and to name them.
WHAT SCENERY POSSIBLE IN A VALE.-RUISDALE.- INVO
CATION TO THE MUSE OF PAINTING.
Nor if here
The Painter comes, shall his enchanting art
Go back without a boon for Fancy here,
With Nature's living colors, forms a scene
Which Ruisdale best might rival: crystal lakes,
O'er which the giant oak, himself a grove,
Flings his romantic branches, and beholds
His reverend image in th' expanse below.
If distant hills be wanting, yet our eye
Forgets the want, and with delighted gaze
Rests on the lovely foreground; there applauds
The art, which, varying forms and blending hues,
Gives that harmonious force of shade and light,
Which makes the landscape perfect. Art like this
Is only art, all else abortive toil.
Come, then, thou Sister Muse, from whom the mind
Wins for her airy visions color, form,
FANCY'S TASK TO BEAUTIFY A LOW Vale difficult, YET NOT And fixed locality, sweet Painting, come
IMPOSSIBLE. RICHMOND. WINDSOR.
Yet, in this lowly site, where all that charms
Within itself must charm, hard is the task
Imposed on Fancy. Hence with idle fear!
Is she not Fancy? and can Fancy fail
In sweet delusions, in concealments apt,
And wild creative power? She cannot fail.
And yet, full oft, when her creative power,
Her apt concealments, her delusions sweet,
Have been profusely lavished; when her groves
Have shot, with vegetative vigor strong,
Ev'n to their wished maturity; when Jove
Has rolled the changeful seasons o'er her lawns,
To teach the docile pupil of my song
How much his practice on thy aid depends.
THE ART OF LANDSCAPE PAINTING AND GARDENING.-
COLORS.FOLIAGE.
Of Nature's various scenes the Painter culls
That for his fav'rite theme, where the fair whole
Is broken into ample parts, and bold;
Where to the eye three well-marked distances
Spread their peculiar coloring. Vivid green,
Warm brown, and black opaque the foreground bears
Conspicuous; sober olive coldly marks
The second distance; thence the third declines
In softer blue, or, less'ning still, is lost
In faintest purple. When thy taste is called
To deck a scene where Nature's self presents
All these distinct gradations, then rejoice
As does the painter, and like him apply
Thy colors plant thou on each separate part
Its proper foliage.
ARRANGEMENT OF SHRUBBERY AND TREES.
Chief, for there thy skill
Has its chief scope, enrich with all the hues
That flowers, that shrubs, that trees can yield, the
sides
Of that fair path, from whence our sight is led
Gradual to view the whole. Where'er thou wind'st
That path, take heed between the scene and eye
To vary and to mix thy chosen greens.
Here for a while with cedar or with larch, [hide
That from the ground spread their close texture,
The view entire.
Then o'er some lowly tuft, Where rose and woodbine bloom, permit its charms To burst upon the sight; now through a copse Of beech, that rear their smooth and stately trunks, Admit it partially, and half exclude, And half reveal its graces in this path, How long soe'er the wanderer roves, each step Shall wake fresh beauties; each short point present A different picture, new, and yet the same.
CAUTION AS TO FELLING TREES. - POUSSIN. — CLAUDE.
Yet some there are who scorn this cautious rule, And fell each tree that intercepts the scene. O great Poussin ! O Nature's darling, Claude ! What if some rash and sacrilegious hand Tore from your canvas those umbrageous pines That frown in front, and give each azure hill The charm of contrast! Nature suffers here Like outrage, and bewails a beauty lost, Which time with tardy hand shall late restore.
TREES ILL PLACED. FENCE. SALVATOR ROSA.
Yet here the spoiler rests not; see him rise
Warm from his devastation, to improve,
For so he calls it, yonder champian wide.
There on each bolder brow in shapes acute
His fence he scatters; there the Scottish fir
In murky file lifts his inglorious head,
And blots the fair horizon. So should art
Improve thy pencil's savage dignity,
Salvator! if where, far as eye can pierce,
Rock piled on rock, thy Alpine heights retire,
She flung her random foliage, and disturbed
The deep repose of the majestic scene.
This deed were impious. Ah, forgive the thought,
Thou more than painter, more than poet! He
Alone thy equal, who was Fancy's child.'
POVERTY OF FORESTING FORBIDDEN. AMPLY FLOWING LINES
OF FOREST. ELM. CHESTNUT.—OAK. SIMILE OF THE
GROWN-UP WARRIOR.
Does then the song forbid the planter's hand
To clothe the distant hills, and veil with woods
Their barren summits? No; it but forbids
All poverty of clothing. Rich the robe,
And ample let it flow, that Nature wears
On her throned eminence: where'er she takes
Her horizontal march, pursue her step
With sweeping train of forest; hill to hill
Unite with prodigality of shade.
There plant thy elm, thy chestnut; nourish there
Those sapling oaks, which, at Britannia's call,
May heave their trunks mature into the main,
And float the bulwarks of her liberty:
But if the fir, give it its station meet;
Place it an outguard to th' assailing north,
To shield the infant scions, till possessed
Of native strength, they learn alike to scorn
The blast and their protectors. Fostered thus,
The cradled hero gains from female care
His future vigor; but, that vigor felt,
He springs indignant from his nurse's arms,
Nods his terrific helmet, shakes his spear,
And is that awful thing which Heaven ordained
The scourge of tyrants, and his country's pride.
THE PRINCIPLES OF LANDSCAPE. BROAD CONTRASTS.CARELESS LINES.
If yet thy art be dubious how to treat Nature's neglected features, turn thy eye To those, the masters of correct design, Who, from her vast variety, have culled The loveliest, boldest parts, and new arranged; Yet, as herself approved, herself inspired. In their immortal works thou ne'er shalt find Dull uniformity, contrivance quaint, Or labored littleness; but contrasts broad, And careless lines, whose undulating forms Play through the varied canvas: these transplant Again on Nature; take thy plastic spade, It is thy pencil; take thy seeds, thy plants, They are thy colors; and by these repay With interest every charm she lent thy art.
PERFECTION FROM UNION OF ART AND NATURE. RAPHAEL. -COMBINE SELECTED EXCELLENCES.
Nor, while I thus to Imitation's realm Direct thy step, deem I direct thee wrong; Nor ask, why I forget great Nature's fount, And bring thee not the bright inspiring cup From her original spring. Yet, if thou ask'st, Thyself shalt give the answer. Tell me why Did Raphael steal, when his creative hand Imaged the seraphim, ideal grace And dignity supernal from that store Of Attic sculpture, which the ruthless Goth Spared in his headlong fury! Tell me this : And then confess that beauty best is taught By those, the favored few, whom Heaven has lent
The power to seize, select, and reunite
Her loveliest features; and of these to form
One archetype complete of sovereign grace.
Here Nature sees her fairest forms more fair;
Owns them for hers, yet owns herself excelled
By what herself produced. Here Art and she
Embrace; connubial Juno smiles benign,
And from the warm embrace Perfection springs.
AIM AT AN IDEAL.-VARIETY SCORNS THE CUBE AND CONE.
Rouse then each latent energy of soul,
To clasp ideal beauty. Proteus-like,
Think not the changeful nymph will long elude
Thy chase, or with reluctant coyness frown.
Inspired by her, thy happy art shall learn
To melt in fluent curves whate'er is straight,
Acute, or parallel. For, these unchanged,
Nature and she disdain the formal scene.
"Tis their demand, that every step of rule
Be severed from their sight: they own no charm
But those that fair Variety creates,
Who ever loves to undulate and sport
In many a winding train. With equal zeal
She, careless goddess, scorns the cube and cone,
As does mechanic order hold them dear:
Hence springs their enmity; and he that hopes
To reconcile the foes, as well might aim
With hawk and dove to draw the Cyprian car.
THE WILD-WOOD GLADES OF BRITAIN.
And yet, my Albion! in that fair domain,
Which ocean made thy dowry, when his love
Tempestuous tore thee from reluctant Gaul,
And bade thee be his queen, there still remains
Full many a lovely, unfrequented wild,
Where change like this is needless; where no lines
Of hedge-row, avenue, or of platform square,
Demand destruction. In thy fair domain,
Yes, my loved Albion! many a glade is found,
The haunt of wood-gods only; where, if Art
E'er dared to tread, 't was with unsandalled foot.
Printless, as if the place were holy ground.
And there are scenes, where, though she whilom
Led by the worst of guides, fell Tyranny, [trod,
And ruthless Superstition, we now trace
Her footsteps with delight; and pleased revere
What once had roused our hatred.
THE HARSHNESS OF ART MELLOWED BY TIME. — RUINS.—
CASTLE. ABBEY.
Not her, the praise is due: his gradual touch
Has mouldered into beauty many a tower,
Which, when it frowned with all its battlements,
Was only terrible; and many a fane
Monastic, which, when decked with all its spires,
Served but to feed some pampered abbot's pride,
And awe the unlettered vulgar. Generous youth,
Whoe'er thou art, that listen'st to my lay,
And feel'st thy soul assent to what I sing,
Such sentence passed, where shall the Dryads fly Happy art thou if thou canst call thine own
HOW TO TREAT A RIGID ROW OF VENERABLE OAKS. SID-
NEY. SURRY. — SHADOWY POMP.
That haunt yon ancient vista? Pity, sure,
Will spare the long cathedral aisle of shade
In which they sojourn; taste were sacrilege,
If, lifting there the axe, it dared invade
Those spreading oaks that in fraternal files
Have paired for centuries, and heard the strains
Of Sidney's, nay, perchance, of Surry's reed.
Yet must they fall, unless mechanic skill,
To save her offspring, rouse at our command;
And, where we bid her move, with engine huge,
Each ponderous trunk, the ponderous trunk there
A work of difficulty and danger tried,
Nor oft successful found. But if it fails,
Thy axe must do its office. Cruel task,
Yet needful. Trust me, though I bid thee strike,
Reluctantly I bid thee: for my soul
Holds dear an ancient oak, nothing more dear;
It is an ancient friend. Stay then thine hand;
And try by saplings tall, discreetly placed
Before, between, behind, in scattered groups,
To break the obdurate line. So may'st thou save
A chosen few; and yet, alas, but few
Of these, the old protectors of the plain.
Yet shall these few give to thy opening lawn
That shadowy pomp, which only they can give :
For parted now, in patriarchal pride,
Each tree becomes the father of a tribe;
And, o'er the stripling foliage, rising round,
Towers with parental dignity supreme.
Such scenes as these: where Nature and where
Time
Have worked congenial; where a scattered host
Of antique oaks darken thy sidelong hills;
While, rushing through their branches, rifted cliffs
Dart their white heads, and glitter through the
More happy still, if one superior rock [gloom.
Bear on its brow the shivered fragment huge
Of some old Norman fortress; happier far,
Ah, then most happy, if thy vale below
Wash, with the crystal coolness of its rills,
Some mouldering abbey's ivy-vested wall.
EXPENSIVE FOLLY OF OLD-FASHIONED GARDENING. STIFF-
NESS. YEW. — HOLLY. — BOX. -CANAL. — TERRACE.
O how unlike the scene my fancy forms,
Did Folly, heretofore, with Wealth conspire
To plan that formal, dull, disjointed scene,
Which once was called a garden! Britain still
Bears on her breast full many a hideous wound
Given by the cruel pair, when, borrowing aid
From geometric skill, they vainly strove
By line, by plummet, and unfeeling shears,
To form with verdure what the builder formed
With stone. Egregious madness; yet pursued
With pains unwearied, with expense unsummed,
And science doting. Hence the sidelong walls
Of shaven yew; the holly's prickly arms
Trimmed into high arcades; the tonsile box
Wove, in mosaic mode, of many a curl,
Around the figured carpet of the lawn.
Hence too deformities of harder cure:
The terras mound uplifted; the long line
Deep delved of flat canal; and all that toil,
Misled by tasteless Fashion, could achieve
To mar fair Nature's lineaments divine.
REFORM IN LANDSCAPE GARDENING DUE TO BACON, THE
PROPHET OF A TRUE TASTE.
Long was the night of error, nor dispelled
By him that rose at learning's earliest dawn,
Prophet of unborn Science. On thy realm,
Philosophy! his sovereign lustre spread,
Yet did he deign to light with casual glance
The wilds of taste. Yes, sagest Verulam,
T was thine to banish from the royal grove
Each childish vanity of crispéd knot
And sculptured foliage; to the lawn restore
Its ample space, and bid it feast the sight
With verdure pure, unbroken, unabridged:
For verdure soothes the eye, as roseate sweets
The smell, or music's melting strains the ear.
LORD BACON'S GARDEN. A SWEET PICTURE.
So taught the sage, taught a degenerate reign
What in Eliza's golden day was taste.
Not but the mode of that romantic age,
The age of tourneys, triumphs, and quaint masques,
Glared with fantastic pageantry, which dimmed
The sober eye of truth, and dazzled even
The sage himself; witness his high-arched hedge,
In pillared state by carpentry upborne,
With colored mirrors decked and prisoned birds.
But, when our step has paced his proud parterres,
And reached the heath, then Nature glads our eye
Sporting in all her lovely carelessness.
There smiles in varied tufts the velvet rose,
There flaunts the gadding woodbine, swells the
In gentle hillocks, and around its sides [ground
Through blossomed shades the secret pathway steals.
SPENSER'S RESIDENCE. — ART SECONDING NATURE.
Thus, with a poet's power, the sage's pen Portrayed that nicer negligence of scene, Which Taste approves. While he, delicious swain, Who tuned his oaten pipe by Mulla's stream, Accordant touched the stops in Dorian mood; What time he 'gan to paint the fairy vale, Where stands the Fane of Venus. Well I ween That then, if ever, Colin, thy fond hand Did steep its pencil in the well-fount clear Of true simplicity; and 'called in Art Only to second Nature, and supply All that the nymph forgot, or left forlorn.'1
MILTON THE HERALD OF A TRUE TASTE. HIS DESCRIPTION OF PARADISE. CHARLES II.—WILLIAM III.
Yet what availed the song? or what availed Even thine, thou chief of bards, whose mighty mind, With inward light irradiate, mirror-like
1 See Spenser's Faery Queene, book 4, canto 10.
Received, and to mankind with ray reflex
The sovereign Planter's primal work displayed?
That work, where not nice Art in curious knots,
But Nature boon, poured forth on hill and dale
Flowers worthy of Paradise; while all around
Umbrageous grots, and caves of cool recess,
And murmuring waters down the slope dispersed,
Or held, by fringéd banks, in crystal lakes,
Compose a rural seat of various view.'1
"T was thus great Nature's herald blazoned high
That fair original impress, which she bore
In state sublime; e'er miscreated art,
Offspring of sin and shame, the banner seized,
And with adulterate pageantry defiled.
Yet vainly, Milton, did thy voice proclaim
These her primeval honors. Still she lay
Defaced, deflowered, full many a ruthless year:
Alike, when Charles, the abject tool of France,
Came back to smile his subjects into slaves;
Or Belgic William, with his warrior frown,
Coldly declared them free; in fetters still
The goddess pined, by both alike oppressed.
TEMPLE'S IDEA OF A GARDEN. BARENESS. STIFFNESS.
Go to the proof! behold what Temple called A perfect garden. There thou shalt not find One blade of verdure, but with aching feet From terras down to terras shalt descend, Step following step, by tedious flight of stairs: On leaden platforms now the noon-day sun Shall scorch thee; now the dank arcades of stone Shall chill thy fervor; happy, if at length Thou reach the orchard, where the sparing turf Through equal lines, all centring in a point, Yields thee a softer tread. And yet full oft O'er Temple's studious hour did Truth preside, Sprinkling her lustre o'er his classic page: There hear his candor own in fashion's spite, In spite of courtly dulness, hear it own 'There is a grace in wild variety Surpassing rule and order.' Temple,2 yes, There is a grace; and let eternal wreaths Adorn their brows who fixed its empire here.
REFORMERS OF GARDENING; ADDISON, POPE, KENT, SOUTHCOTE, SHENSTONE, CAPABILITY BROWN.' The muse shall hail the champions that herself Led to the fair achievement. Addison, Thou polished sage, or shall I call thee bard, I see thee come: around thy temples play The lambent flames of humor, brightening mild Thy judgment into smiles; gracious thou com'st With Satire at thy side, who checks her frown, But not her secret sting. With bolder rage Pope next advances; his indignant arm Waves the poetic brand o'er Timon's shades, And lights them to destrucion; the fierce blaze
1 See Milton's Paradise Lost, book 4.
2 See Sir William Temple's Miscellanies,' vol. I., p. 186, fol. ed.
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