THE ENGLISH GARDEN. 19 



Are you, ye fons of CLAUDE ! who from the mine, 

 The earth, or juice of herb or flower concrete, 

 Mingle the mafs whence your Arcadia's fpring ; 

 The graceful outline of your piclur'd trees 

 Still keeps the bound you gave it ; Time that pales 325 



Your vivid hues, refpefts your pleafing forms. 

 Not fo our Landfcapes ; though we paint like you, 

 We paint with growing colours ; ev'ry year, 

 O'erpafTmg that which gives the breadth of fhade 

 We fought, by rude addition, mars our fcene. 330 



Roufe then, ye Hinds I e'er yet yon clofmg boughs 

 Blot out the purple diflance, roufe ye foon, 

 Prevent the fpreading evil. Thin the glades, 

 While yet of flender fize each item will thrive 

 Tranfplanted. Twice repeat the annual toil i 335 



Nor let the ax its beak, the faw its tooth 

 Refrain, whene'er fome random branch has ftray'd 

 Beyond the bounds of beauty ; elfe full foon, 



Ev'n 



