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beauty of the Cape gardens, are the luxuriant myrtle hedges, 

 which surround every enclosure, to a great height; their bloming 

 branches waving over the head of the passenger, unite in fragrance 

 with the odoriferous exhalations from the orange and lemon trees, 

 abounding in these enclosures. 



I shall take leave of this pleasing subject with a few lines from 

 a manuscript poem, descriptive of the gardens and orchards at 

 the Cape, written among their delightful variety. 



On flowers, in Europe yet unseen, I tread, 

 And trees of stranger form embrace my head ; 

 The product here of every clime is known ; 

 This generous soil adopts them all her own : 

 Arrang'd the vegetable tribes appear, 

 And plants, like nations, grow familiar here : 

 Around her soft perfume the citron throws, 

 There, through the gloom, the rich pomegranate glows ; 

 The brightening orange next attracts the view, 

 The paler lime succeeds, with fainter hue ; 

 There the blue fig the purple grape entwines, 

 Here with the rose the Persian-jasmine joins ; 

 Here towers, with native grace, the tender palm 

 Beneath the weeping shrub distils with balm ; 

 There the fair aloe rears its flow'ry head, 

 Here the dark cypress forms its equal shade. 



A thousand birds, of various form and sound, 

 Diffuse luxurious harmony around; 

 Not brighter colours paint the heavenly bow, 

 Than grace their wings, and o'er their plumage glow. 



We spent one day at Constantia, the celebrated vineyard, 

 twelve miles from Cape-town. We travelled, in coaches drawn 



