IVY BUSH. 



185 



he, " a gigantic stem of Ivy has pushed away the fine 

 fluted work of the kitchen window, and seems to set iron 

 and stone at defiance The heavy accusations made 

 against it have given rise to much morahsing upon the 

 subject. 



See there the envious world portrayed 

 In that dark look, that creeping pace ! 



No flower can bear the ivy's shade — 

 No tree support its cold embrace. 



The oak that rears it from the ground. 



And bears its tendrils to the skies. 

 Feels at his heart the rankUng wound, 



And in its poisonous arms he dies." 



Langhorne. 



Poets, however, more frequently take delight in laud- 

 ing its beauty than in quarrelling with its vices. Few 

 have noticed the various habits of its growth : how 



" When the oak denies her stay. 



The creeping ivy winds her humble way ; 



No more she twists her branches round, 



But drags her feeble stem along the barren ground." 



Lloyd. 



*^ In a sweet solitude, beside the flood. 



Is a green grove of willows, trunk-entwined 

 With ivies climbing to the top, whose hood 

 Of glossy leaves, with all its boughs combined. 

 So interchains and canopies the wood 

 That the hot sunbeams can no access find ; 

 The water bathes the mead, the flowers around 

 It glads, and charms the ear with its sweet sound." 



Wiffen's Garcilasso, p. 268. 



* Remains of Bloomfield, vol. ii. p, 25. 



