466 



in the garden of God was like unto him in his beauty. He was 

 made fair by the multitude of his branches; so that all the trees 

 of Eden envied him ! But I have delivered him into the hands of 

 the heathen, strangers have cut him off; the terrible of the nations 

 have left him; upon the mountains and in the valleys his branches 

 are fallen; his boughs are broken; the people of the earth are 

 gone from his shadow, and have left him! Take up a lamenta- 

 tion for his destruction : prophecy, and say, Woe worth the day ! 

 for it is a day of desolation; a cloudy day! The daughters of the 

 nations shall lament thy doom, they shall lament the loss of thy 

 beauty I" 



The reader of sensibility will excuse this digression, and the 

 following parody on a few lines in Goldsmith's " Deserted Village," 

 occasioned by a momentary impulse, on reading the state of our 

 iiarden-houses in Mr. Cruso's journal. 



Sweet Vezel ! loveliest village of the plain, 

 Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain ; 

 Where cooling showers their earliest visits paid, 

 And latter rains abundant harvests made. 

 Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, 

 Seats of my youth, when every sport could please : 

 How often have I wander' d o'er thy green, 

 Where friendly intercourse endear'd each scene : 

 How often have I paus*d on every charm, 

 The Hindoo cot, the cultivated farm, 

 The bold Nerbudda flowing by thy side, 

 The decent mosque beyond his swelling tide, 

 The glittering temple hid beneath the shade 

 Where Visnoo's priests or Seeva's votaries stray'd. 

 How often have I hail'd the festive hour 

 When distant friends arriv'd to grace the bow'r, 



