562 
TPIE TLOWER GARDEN 01' THE POETS. 
Marvel, whose imagination often delights itself 
with the luxuries of the flower garden. His 
idea of it is, hov/ever, not of the usual kind ; 
he does not delight in well ordered j)arter- 
res, in straightly laid walks, and artistically- 
phxnned arrangements; he would rather revel 
in a wild profusion of flowers, and see beauty 
in disorder. The verses are supposed to be 
sung by the nymph complaining of the death 
of her fawn : — 
"I have a garden of my own, 
But so with roses overgrown, 
And lUiea, that you would it guess 
To be a httle wilderness ; 
And all the spring-time of the year 
It only loved to be there. 
Among the beds of lilies I 
Have sought it oft where it should lie ; 
For in the flaxen lilies' shade 
It like a bank of lilies laid. 
Upon the roses it would feed 
Until its lips e'en seemed to bleed ; 
And then to me 'twould boldly trip. 
And print these roses on my lip ; 
But all its chief delight was still 
On roses thus itself to fill." 
Michael Drayton, a poet of the same class, 
though not perhaps possessed of so much 
power, will not miss the opportunity to glance 
at the gifts of Flora. 
" A maiden, on a morn betime. 
Went forth, when May was in the prime, 
To get sweet sethgall, 
The honeysuckle, the harlock, 
The lily and the lady-smock; 
Thus she wander'd hei'e and there, 
And picked oif the bloomy brier." 
. Perhaps, as we started with saying that we 
should confine ourselves in the present article 
to the loftier pinnacles of poetry, it may ap- 
pear somewhat strange that, stooping from 
the level on which we have hitherto ranged, 
we pick up Elijah Fenton and cull a flower 
from his modest garden plot. He pretends 
to little, and does not accomplish very much ; 
but his poetry, though neither grand nor 
brilliant, is not without its sweetness ; and 
we may be pardoned for bringing him into 
company with the brighter luminaries which, 
in the poetical firmament, revolve around 
Shakspeare ^and Milton ; but these lumi- 
naries have their satellites, and we select a 
verse from one of them : — 
" At length the lusty spring prcvnils, 
And swift, to meet the smiling May,' 
Is wafted by the western gales. 
Around him dance the rosy hours, 
And damasking the ground with flowers, 
"With ambient sweets perfume the morn." 
The lines are sprightly, and not without 
merit. Of a different class, but yet quite as" 
happy in expression, is the following passage 
in Lobbin Clart's panegyric on Blowzelinda. 
Evfry one will recognise John Gay in these 
verses : — 
" My Blowzelinda is the blithest lass ; 
Than primrose sweeter, or the clover-grass. 
Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows. 
Fair is the daisy that beside he grows 
Fair is the gilliflower of gardens sweet ; 
Fair is the marigold of pottage meet : 
But Blowzelind than gilliflower's more fair, 
Than daisy, marigold, or king-cup rare." 
The poet is here humble, and his ideas are 
humble. He confines liim?elf to lowly flowers, 
for he is treating of a lowly subject ; and the 
gastronomic allusion contained in the lines 
does not take away from their sweetness. 
Our readers will, we are sure, thank us for 
introducing to them William Hamilton, the 
Ayrshire poet, whose productions are marked 
by much genius and originality. There is 
genuine beauty in the lines we extract : — 
" M ark how Nature's hand bestows 
Abundant grace on all that grows ; 
Tinges with pencil hue, unseen. 
The grass that clothes the valley green ; 
Or spreads the tulip's parted streaks. 
Or sanguine dyes the rose's cheeks." 
This is the only specimen we .shall give 
from William Hamilton ; but it is a gem of 
thought. Were our inclination to tend that 
way, we could multiply, to an indefinite 
extent, instances of the delight which the 
poet has almost always felt in dwelling on 
the beauty and luxury of a flower-garden. 
The " perfume-breathing rose," the " inno- 
cent lily," the " sweet flower of the valley," 
the " various tulip," the "golden cowslip," — 
all share in the poet's praise, some for the 
brilliancy of their colours, others for the 
sweetness of their perfume : — 
" Full many a flower of sweetness grows ; 
The lily and the damask rose, 
The jasmine and the eglantine, 
The pendants of the sweet woodbine. 
The snowdrop and the pimpernel. 
The pansy and the bright blue-bell : — 
All these are sweet — 1 love them well — 
All these are sweet and fair, but yet. 
Most I love the violet." 
And the poet is not alone in his admiration 
of the " glowing violet." It is, indeed, a mag- 
nificent flower! Who can look upon the rich 
purple-blue, soft as velvet, which forms its 
chief beauty, without being struck wdth admi- 
ration ! 
" The violet blue 
Sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. 
Or Cytherea's breath-" 
So that, for beauty and fragrance, this flower 
has received the higiiest praise. It has yet 
another quality — modesty — for which it has 
frequently been extolled : — 
"Look, where the violet lifts its lowly head — 
That rich, sweet flower, whose deep imperial hue 
Surpasses all the gorgeous flowers that grow. 
And yet it is not proud. It loves to bloom 
Far in the valley's depth, or 'neath the shade 
