120 FLORA HISTORICA. 



A wilderness of sweets ; for Nature here 

 Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will 

 Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, 

 'Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss. 



The distinguished family who now reside at 

 Bignor Park have too correct a taste to destroy the 

 natural beauties of the spot, which our fair poetess 

 has made celebrated, either by the introduction of 

 the axe, or the line and rule, yet we perceived here 



Flowers worthy of Paradise. 



Shakspeare's magic pen alone is sufficient to stamp 

 celebrity on any plant it has glided over ; for, how- 

 ever slightly he touches on it, it is fully painted to 



our senses 



"With fairest flowers, 



Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 

 I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack 

 The flower that's like thy face, pale Primrose ; nor 

 The azured Harebell like thy veins : no, nor 

 The leaf of Eglantine, whom, not to slander, 

 Outsweetend not thy breath. 



The fair poetess, who personated our bard's 



Perdita so charmingly, contemplates our native 



Hyacinth under the name of Bluebell. 



Bluebell ! how gaily art thou drest, 



How neat and trim art thou, sweet flow'r ; 



How silky is thy azure vest, 



How fresh to flaunt at morning's hour ! 



Couldst thou but think, I well might say 



Thou art as proud in rich array 



