Here living fweets around her altar rise,
And breathe perpetual incenfe to the skies.

Here too the thoughtless and the young may tread,
Who fhun the drearier mansions of the dead;

May here be taught what worth the world has known.
Her wit, her fenfe, her virtues were her own;

To her peculiar-and for ever loft

To those who knew, and therefore lov'd her moft.
Q! if kind Pity fteal on Virtue's eye,

Check not the tear, nor stop the useful figh;
From foft Humanity's ingenuous flame,

A with may rife to emulate her fame,

And fome faint image of her worth reftore,
When those, who now lament her, are no more.

The Confervatory next appears; orange trees of various kinds are planted in the ground; and during the fummer, the front, fides, and roof of the building are removed, the back wall is covered with a treillage, against which are planted exotic jeffamines, &c.

This garden contains no more than an acre and half of ground; but fuch is the irregularity of its form and furface, the difpofition of its fhrubs and flowers, and the conduct of the furrounding path, that it appears very confiderably larger than it really is: in description it may appear overcharged with artificial ornaments, but they are fo placed as to be seen only in unexpected fucceffion. A flower-garden being profeffedly a work of art, admits of all the embellishment that art can beflow. But taste alone could not have formed this fpot, in which fo much of invention and fancy

fancy is difplayed, that it is apparent the genius of poetry muft have affifted in the compofition 8.

Mr. Repton, in his very ingenious and instructive work, on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening, obferves, that "the flower-garden at Nuneham, without being formal, is highly enriched, but not too much crowded with feats, temples, ftatues, or other ornaments, which being works of art, beautifully harmonize with that profufion of flowers and curious plants, which diftinguish the flower-garden from natural landscape, although the walks are not in ftraight lines."

POEMS

POEMS,

WRITTEN AT NUNEHAM.

LINES,

Left in the Flower-Garden, by the late Dr. Bacon, Author of the Snipe, &c.

Could Milton be reftor'd to fight,

He might at good Lord Nuneham's coft
See here, with exquifite delight,

The Paradife, His Adam Loft.

To Walter Clark.

By the Hon. Horace Walpole, 1773.

Your pinks and tulips live an hour,
A fortnight bounds your utmost pow'r.
Flora, the niggård Goddess, pays
With fhort-liv'd joys the toil of days,
But, Walter Clark, your happy lot
İs fallen in a fairer spot:

A Mufe has deign'd to view your bow'r,
And ftampt immortal every flow'r ;
Her breath new perfumes can disclose,
Her touch improve the damask rose :
And ages hence, the buds you raise
Shall bloom, in Nuneham'sh living laye
The lilies of the field, that fhone
With brighter blaze than Solomon,

h Lady Nuneham.

Shall

Shall beg to quit their rural ftations,

To mix with Walter Clark's carnations.

To Gratitude, left in the Grotto in the
Flower-Garden, 1776.

Goddess, to thee we confecrate this Grot,

Here fix thy throne, and bless the favour'd spot;
What though we deck with wreaths fair Flora's bower,
And hail with tuneful fongs the Delian power,

To Pan, to Faunus, rural altars raise,

And bid the Cyprian fhrine with incenfe blaze;
Give to the Sage the honour due, or mourn
With pious friendship o'er yon facred Urn;

Yet ftill, bright Nymph, be thine the warmest praise,
The fweeteft garlands, and the softeft lays.

Come, with thy glowing cheek, thy tearful eye,
Thy fmile half check'd, thy foul diffolving figh;
Thy faultering voice, thy throbbing heart, and teach
Virtues, which only thou haft power to reach.

To Oberon, written in the Flower-Garden, 1777.

Oh thou, whom with thy airy train
Our Shakespear fung in wildest strain ;
Sweet Oberon, once more to thee

A fuppliant mortal bends the knee :
If (as 'tis faid) thy magic powers

Extend o'er herbs, and plants, and flowers ;
Ah vifit this enamel'd ground,

And wave thy fairy wand around;

Bid every noxious vapour fly,

With balmy zephyrs warm the sky}
Close every bud of baleful hue,

And purify the evening dew.

That rofe-lip'd health with frolic mien,
Like thee may trip the circled green;

And

And bring with her the heart's best treasure,
Calm delight and focial pleasure;
And if there be yet a bleffing
Worth defiring, worth poffeffing,
Gentle Spirit, let thy power
Charm it to this fragrant bower;
And then command thy Elfin bands
To clip Time's wings, and bind his hands,
That every joy may lingʻring stay,

Nor dread his fcythe's too powerful sway.
So may bright Cynthia's filver ray
Illume the noon of fairy day;

So may no ftep or eye prophane
Difturb the revels of thy train;
So may each blooming flower diffuse,
For thee, its most nectareous dews ;
And bees their honied tribute bring
To Oberon, the Fairy King.

On the improvements at Nuneham-Courtenay, by Mr. Whitehead, 1781.

Dame Nature the goddess, one very bright day
In ftrolling through Nuneham, met Brown on the way}
And bless me, she said, with an infolent sneer,

I wonder that fellow will dare to come here.
What more than I did, has your impudence plann'd?
The lawn, wood, and water, are all of my hand;
In my very best manner, with Themis's scales,

I lifted the hills, and I fcoop'd out the vales;

With Sylvan's own umbrage I grac'd every brow;

And pour'd the rich Thames through the meadows below. I grant it, he cried; to your fov'reign command

I bow as I ought-Gentle Lady, your hand;

The weather's inviting, fo let us move on ;

You know what you did, and now see what I've done.
Ì with gratitude own you have reason to plead,
That to these happy feenes you were bounteous indeed:

My