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The botanic garden, a poem

In two parts. Part I. Containing The economy of Vegetation, Part II. The Loves of the plants. With philosophical notes. The fourth edition. [by Erasmus Darwin]
Darwin, Erasmus (1731-1802)
  
[epigraph]

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[section]
  
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE POEM ON THE LOVES OF THE PLANTS.
  
TO Dr. DARWIN.
  
TO Dr. DARWIN.
  
TO Dr. DARWIN.
  
Address to the River Derwent, on whose Banks the Author of the Botanic Garden resides.
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THE BOTANIC GARDEN.
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PART I. CONTAINING THE ECONOMY OF VEGETATION
 I. 
CANTO I.
 I. 
I.
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III.
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IV.
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VI.
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VII.
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 VIII. 
VIII.
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XII.
  
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CANTO II.
  
[prologue]
 I. 
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II.
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III.
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IV.
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V.
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VI.
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VII.
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VIII.
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XI.
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CANTO III.
  
[prologue]
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I.
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III.
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IV.
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V.
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VIII.
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IX.
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X.
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XI.
 XII. 
XII.
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XIII.
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XIV.
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CANTO IV.
  
[prologue]
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III.
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IV.
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X.
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XII.
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 XIII. 
XIII.
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XIV.
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 XV. 
XV.
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PART II. CONTAINING THE LOVES OF THE PLANTS
 I. 
CANTO I.
 II. 
CANTO II.
 III. 
CANTO III.
 IV. 
CANTO IV.

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XII.

“Should Solstice, stalking through the sickening bowers,
Suck the warm dew-drops, lap the falling showers;
Kneel with parch'd lip, and bending from it's brink
From dripping palm the scanty river drink;
Nymphs! o'er the soil ten thousand points erect,
And high in air the electric flame collect.
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Soon shall dark mists with self-attraction shroud
The blazing day, and sail in wilds of cloud;
Each silvery Flower the streams aerial quaff,
Bow her sweet head, and infant Harvest laugh.
“Thus when Elija mark'd from Carmel's brow
In bright expanse the briny flood below;
Roll'd his red eyes amid the scorching air,
Smote his firm breast, and breathed his ardent prayer;
High in the midst a massy altar stood,
And slaughter'd offerings press'd the piles of wood;
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While Israel's chiefs the sacred hill surround,
And famish'd armies crowd the dusty ground;
While proud Idolatry was leagued with dearth,
And wither'd Famine swept the desart earth.—
“Oh! mighty Lord! thy woe-worn servant hear,
“Who calls thy name in agony of prayer;
“Thy fanes dishonour'd, and thy prophets slain,
“Lo! I alone survive of all thy train!—
“Oh send from heaven thy sacred fire,—and pour
“O'er the parch'd land the salutary shower,—
“So shall thy Priest thy erring flock recal,—
“And speak in thunder, Thou art Lord of all.”
He cried, and kneeling on the mountain-sands,
Stretch'd high in air his supplicating hands.
Descending flames the dusky shrine illume,
Fire the wet wood, the sacred bull consume;
Wing'd from the sea the gathering mists arise,
And floating waters darken all the skies;
The King with shifted reins his chariot bends,
And wide o'er earth the airy flood descends;
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With mingling cries dispersing hosts applaud,
And shouting nations own the living God.”
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