“We nowhere Art do so triumphant see 
As WHEN IT GRAFTS OR BUDS THE TREE. 
In other things we count it to excel, 
If it a docile scholar can appear 
To Nature and but imitate her well; 
It over-rules and is her master here. 
* * * * 
Who would not joy to see his conquering hand 
O’er all the vegetable world command ; 
And the wild giants of the wood receive, 
What law he’s pleased to give ! 
He bids the ill-natured Crab produce 
The gentle Apple’s winy juice ; 
The golden fruit that worthy is 
Of Galatea’s purple kiss; 
He does the savage Hawthorn teach 
To bear the Medlar and the Pear.” 
Cowley —“ The Garden ,” stanza 10. 
“You see, sweet maid, we marry 
A GENTLER SCION TO THE WILDEST STOCK; 
And make conceive a bark of baser kind 
By bud of nobler race; This is an art 
Which does mend nature,—change it rather: but 
The art itself is nature.” 
Shakespeare—( Winter Tale, IK, j.) 
