University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
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]
  

collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
expand sectionI. 
expand sectionII. 
collapse sectionIII. 
  
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
expand sectionV. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
collapse sectionVIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
expand sectionIV. 
expand sectionII. 

VIII.

Nymphs! whose fair eyes with vivid lustres glow
For human weal, and melt at human woe;
Late as you floated on your silver shells,
Sorrowing and slow by Derwent's willowy dells;

159

Where by tall groves his foamy flood he steers
Through ponderous arches o'er impetuous wears,
By Derby's shadowy towers reflective sweeps,
And gothic grandeur chills his dusky deeps;
You pearl'd with Pity's drops his velvet sides,
Sigh'd in his gales, and murmur'd in his tides,
Waved o'er his fringed brink a deeper gloom,
And bow'd his alders o'er Milcena's tomb.
“Oft with sweet voice She led her infant-train,
Printing with graceful step his spangled plain,
Explored his twinkling swarms, that swim or fly,
And mark'd his florets with botanic eye.—
“Sweet bud of Spring! how frail thy transient bloom,
“Fine film,” she cried, “of Nature's fairest loom!
“Soon Beauty fades upon its damask throne!”—
—Unconscious of the worm, that mined her own!—

160

—Pale are those lips, where soft caresses hung,
Wan the warm cheek, and mute the tender tongue,
Cold rests that feeling heart on Derwent's shore,
And those love-lighted eye-balls roll no more!
Here her sad Consort, stealing through the gloom
Of murmuring cloysters, gazes on her tomb;
Hangs in mute anguish o'er the scutcheon'd hearse,
Or graves with trembling style the votive verse.
“Sexton! oh, lay beneath this sacred shrine,
“When Time's cold hand shall close my aching eyes,
“Oh, gently lay this wearied earth of mine,
“Where wrap'd in night my loved Milcena lies.
“So shall with purer joy my spirit move,
“When the last trumpet thrills the caves of Death,
“Catch the first whispers of my waking love,
“And drink with holy kiss her kindling breath.
“The spotless Fair, with blush ethereal warm,
“Shall hail with sweeter smile returning day,

161

“Rise from her marble bed a brighter form,
“And win on buoyant step her airy way.
“Shall bend approved, where beckoning hosts invite,
“On clouds of silver her adoring knee,
“Approach with Seraphim the throne of light,
“—And Beauty plead with angel-tongue for Me!”

IX.

Your virgin trains on Brindley's cradle smiled,
And nursed with fairy-love the unletter'd child,
Spread round his pillow all your secret spells,
Pierced all your springs, and open'd all your wells.—
As now on grass, with glossy folds reveal'd,
Glides the bright serpent, now in flowers conceal'd;
Far shine the scales, that gild his sinuous back,
And lucid undulations mark his track;

162

So with strong arm immortal Brindley leads
His long canals, and parts the velvet meads;
Winding in lucid lines, the watery mass
Mines the firm rock, or loads the deep morass,
With rising locks a thousand hills alarms,
Flings o'er a thousand streams its silver arms,
Feeds the long vale, the nodding woodland laves,
And Plenty, Arts, and Commerce freight the waves.
Nymphs! who erewhile round Brindley's early bier
On snow-white bosoms shower'd the incessant tear,
Adorn his tomb!—oh, raise the marble bust,
Proclaim his honours, and protect his dust!
With urns inverted round the sacred shrine
Their ozier wreaths let weeping Naiads twine;
While on the top Mechanic Genius stands,
Counts the fleet waves, and balances the lands.

X.

Nymphs! you first taught to pierce the secret caves
Of humid earth, and lift her ponderous waves;

163

Bade with quick stroke the sliding piston bear
The viewless columns of incumbent air;—
Press'd by the incumbent air the floods below,
Through opening valves in foaming torrents flow,
Foot after foot with lessen'd impulse move,
And rising seek the vacancy above.—
So when the Mother, bending o'er his charms,
Clasps her fair nurseling in delighted arms;
Throws the thin kerchief from her neck of snow,
And half unveils the pearly orbs below;
With sparkling eye the blameless Plunderer owns
Her soft embraces, and endearing tones,

164

Seeks the salubrious fount with opening lips,
Spreads his inquiring hands, and smiles, and sips.
Connubial Fair! whom no fond transport warms
To lull your infant in maternal arms;
Who, bless'd in vain with tumid bosoms, hear
His tender wailings with unfeeling ear;
The soothing kiss and milky rill deny,
To the sweet pouting lip, and glistening eye!—
Ah! what avails the cradle's damask roof,
The eider bolster, and embroider'd woof!—
Oft hears the gilded couch unpity'd plains,
And many a tear the tassel'd cushion stains!
No voice so sweet attunes his cares to rest,
So soft no pillow, as his Mother's breast!—
—Thus charm'd to sweet repose, when twilight hours
Shed their soft influence on celestial bowers,
The Cherub, Innocence, with smile divine
Shuts his white wings, and sleeps on Beauty's shrine.

165

XI.

“From dome to dome when flames infuriate climb,
Sweep the long street, invest the tower sublime;
Gild the tall vanes amid the astonish'd night,
And reddening heaven returns the sanguine light;
While with vast strides and bristling hair aloof
Pale Danger glides along the falling roof;
And Giant Terror howling in amaze
Moves his dark limbs across the lurid blaze.
Nymphs! you first taught the gelid wave to rise,
Hurl'd in resplendent arches to the skies;

166

In iron cells condensed the airy spring,
And imp'd the torrent with unfailing wing;
—On the fierce flames the shower impetuous falls,
And sudden darkness shrouds the shatter'd walls;
Steam, smoak, and dust, in blended volumes roll,
And Night and Silence repossess the Pole.—
“Where were ye, Nymphs! in those disasterous hours,
Which wrap'd in flames Augusta's sinking towers?
Why did ye linger in your wells and groves,
When sad Woodmason mourn'd her infant loves?
When thy fair Daughters with unheeded screams,
Ill-fated Molesworth! call'd the loitering streams?—
The trembling Nymph, on bloodless fingers hung,
Eyes from the tottering wall the distant throng,

167

With ceaseless shrieks her sleeping friends alarms,
Drops with singed hair into her lover's arms.—
The illumin'd Mother seeks with footsteps fleet,
Where hangs the safe balcony o'er the street,
Wrap'd in her sheet her youngest hope suspends,
And panting lowers it to her tiptoe friends;
Again she hurries on affection's wings,
And now a third, and now a fourth, she brings;
Safe all her babes, she smooths her horrent brow,
And bursts through bickering flames, unscorch'd below.
So, by her Son arraigned, with feet unshod
O'er burning bars indignant Emma trod.
“E'en on the day when Youth with Beauty wed,
The flames surprised them in their nuptial bed;—
Seen at the opening sash with bosom bare,
With wringing hands, and dark dishevel'd hair,
The blushing Bride with wild disorder'd charms
Round her fond lover winds her ivory arms;
Beat, as they clasp, their throbbing hearts with fear,
And many a kiss is mixed with many a tear;—
Ah me! in vain the labouring engines pour
Round their pale limbs the ineffectual shower!—

168

—Then crash'd the floor, while shrinking crouds retire,
And Love and Virtue sunk amid the fire!—
With piercing screams afflicted strangers mourn,
And their white ashes mingle in their urn.

XII.

Pellucid Forms! whose crystal bosoms show
The shine of welfare, or the shade of woe;
Who with soft lips salute returning Spring,
And hail the Zephyr quivering on his wing;
Or watch, untired, the wintery clouds, and share
With streaming eyes my vegetable care;
Go, shove the dim mist from the mountain's brow,
Chase the white fog, which floods the vale below;
Melt the thick snows, that linger on the lands,
And catch the hailstones in your little hands;
Guard the coy blossom from the pelting shower,
And dash the rimy spangles from the bower,

169

From each chill leaf the silvery drops repel,
And close the timorous floret's golden bell.

170

“So should young Sympathy, in female form,
Climb the tall rock, spectatress of the storm;
Life's sinking wrecks with secret sighs deplore,
And bleed for others' woes, Herself on shore;
To friendless Virtue, gasping on the strand,
Bare her warm heart, her virgin arms expand,
Charm with kind looks, with tender accents cheer,
And pour the sweet consolatory tear;
Grief's cureless wounds with lenient balms asswage,
Or prop with firmer staff the steps of Age;

171

The lifted arm of mute Despair arrest,
And snatch the dagger pointed at his breast;
Or lull to slumber Envy's haggard mien,
And rob her quiver'd shafts with hand unseen.
—Sound, Nymphs of Helicon! the trump of Fame,
And teach Hibernian echoes Jones's name;
Bind round her polished brow the civic bay,
And drag the fair Philanthropist to day,—
So from secluded springs, and secret caves,
Her Liffy pours his bright meandering waves,
Cools the parch'd vale, the sultry mead divides,
And towns and temples star his shadowy sides.

XIII.

Call your light legions, tread the swampy heath,
Pierce with sharp spades the tremulous peat beneath;
With colters bright the rushy sward bisect,
And in new veins the gushing rills direct;—
So flowers shall rise in purple light array'd,
And blossom'd orchards stretch their silver shade;

172

Admiring glebes their amber ears unfold,
And Labour sleep amid the waving gold.
“Thus when young Hercules with firm disdain
Braved the soft smiles of Pleasure's harlot train;
To valiant toils his forceful limbs assign'd,
And gave to Virtue all his mighty mind;
Fierce Achelous rush'd from mountain-caves,
O'er sad Etolia pour'd his wasteful waves,
O'er lowing vales and bleating pastures roll'd,
Swept her red vineyards, and her glebes of gold,
Mined all her towns, uptore her rooted woods,
And Famine danced upon the shining floods.
The youthful Hero seized his curled crest,
And dash'd with lifted club the watery Pest;

173

With waving arm the billowy tumult quell'd,
And to his course the bellowing Fiend repell'd.
“Then to a Snake the finny Demon turn'd
His lengthen'd form, with scales of silver burn'd;
Lash'd with resistless sweep his dragon-train,
And shot meandering o'er the affrighted plain.
The Hero-God, with giant fingers clasp'd
Firm round his neck, the hissing monster grasp'd;
With starting eyes, wide throat, and gaping teeth,
Curl his redundant folds, and writhe in death.
“And now a Bull, amid the flying throng
The grisly Demon foam'd, and roar'd along;
With silver hoofs the flowry meadows spurn'd,
Roll'd his red eye, his threatening antlers turn'd
Dragg'd down to earth, the Warrior's victor-hands
Press'd his deep dewlap on the imprinted sands;
Then with quick bound his bended knee he fix'd
High on his neck, the branching horns betwixt,
Strain'd his strong arms, his sinewy shoulders bent,
And from his curled brow the twisted terror rent.

174

—Pleased Fawns and Nymphs with dancing step applaud,
And hang their chaplets round the resting God;
Link their soft hands, and rear with pausing toil
The golden trophy on the furrow'd soil;
Fill with ripe fruits, with wreathed flowers adorn,
And give to Plenty her prolific horn.

XIV.

“On Spring's fair lip, cerulean Sisters! pour
From airy urns the sun-illumin'd shower,
Feed with the dulcet drops my tender broods,
Mellifluous flowers, and aromatic buds;
Hang from each bending grass and horrent thorn
The tremulous pearl, that glitters to the morn;
Or where cold dews their secret channels lave,
And Earth's dark chambers hide the stagnant wave,
Oh pierce, ye Nymphs! her marble veins, and lead
Her gushing fountains to the thirsty mead;
Wide o'er the shining vales, and trickling hills,
Spread the bright treasure in a thousand rills.

175

So shall my peopled realms of Leaf and Flower
Exult, inebriate with the genial shower;
Dip their long tresses from the mossy brink,
With tufted roots the glassy currents drink;
Shade your cool mansions from meridian beams,
And view their waving honours in your streams.

176

“Thus where the veins their confluent branches bend,
And milky eddies with the purple blend;
The Chyle's white trunk, diverging from its source,
Seeks through the vital mass its shining course;
O'er each red cell, and tissued membrane spreads
In living net-work all its branching threads;
Maze within maze its tortuous path pursues,
Winds into glands, inextricable clues;
Steals through the stomach's velvet sides, and sips
The silver surges with a thousand lips;
Fills each fine pore, pervades each slender hair,
And drinks salubrious dew-drops from the air.
“Thus when to kneel in Mecca's awful gloom,
Or press with pious kiss Medina's tomb,
League after league, through many a lingering day,
Steer the swart Caravans their sultry way;

177

O'er sandy wastes on gasping camels toil,
Or print with pilgrim-steps the burning soil;
If from lone rocks a sparkling rill descend,
O'er the green brink the kneeling nations bend,
Bathe the parch'd lip, and cool the feverish tongue,
And the clear lake reflects the mingled throng.”
The Goddess paused,—the listening bands awhile
Still seem to hear, and dwell upon her smile;
Then with soft murmur sweep in lucid trains
Down the green slopes, and o'er the pebbly plains,
To each bright stream on silver sandals glide,
Reflective fountain, and tumultuous tide.
So shoot the Spider-broods at breezy dawn,
Their glittering net-work o'er the autumnal lawn;
From blade to blade connect with cordage fine
The unbending grass, and live along the line;
Or bathe unwet their oily forms, and dwell
With feet repulsive on the dimpling well.
So when the North congeals his watery mass,
Piles high his snows, and floors his seas with glass;

178

While many a Month, unknown to warmer rays,
Marks its slow chronicle by lunar days;
Stout youths and ruddy damsels, sportive train,
Leave the white soil, and rush upon the main;
From isle to isle the moon-bright squadrons stray,
And win in easy curves their graceful way;
On step alternate borne, with balance nice
Hang o'er the gliding steel, and hiss along the ice.