PREFACE. XXXI 



I know not why the beech delights the glade 

 With boughs extended, and a rounder shade, 

 Whilst towering firs in conic forms arise, 

 And with a pointed spear divide the skies ; 

 Nor why again the changing oak should shed 

 The yearly honour of his stately head ; 

 Whilst the distinguish'd yew is ever seen, 

 Unchanged his branch, and permanent his green. 

 Wanting the sun, why does the caltha fade ? 

 Why does the cypress flourish in the shade ? 

 The fig, and date, why love they to remain 

 In middle station, and an even plain, 

 While in the lower marsh the gourd is found, 

 And while the hill with olive shade is crown'd ? 

 Why does one climate and one soil endue 

 The blushing poppy with a crimson hue, 

 Yet leave the lily pale, and tinge the violet blue ? 

 Why does the fond carnation love to shoot 

 A various colour from one parent root ; 

 While the fantastic tulip strives to break 

 In twofold beauty and a parted streak ; 

 The twining jasmine, and the blushing rose, 

 With lavish grace their morning scents disclose ; 

 The smelling tuberose and jonquil declare 

 The stronger impulse of an evening air ? 

 Whence has the tree (resolve me), or the flower, 

 A various instinct, or a different power ? 

 Whyshould one earth, one clime, one stream, one breath, 

 Raise this to strength, and sicken that to death ? 



Whence does it happen that the plant which well 

 We name the sensitive, should move and feel ? 

 Whence know her leaves to answer her command, 

 And with quick horror fly the approaching hand ?" 



