14 
GARDENS, WREATHS, &c. 
Nor e’er, with ruffled fancy, grieve, 
From the next glance she casts, to find 
That love for little Things by Fate 
Is rendered vain as love for great. 
Yet, where the guardian Fence is wound, 
So subtly is the eye beguiled 
It sees not nor suspects a Bound, 
No more than in some forest wild; 
Free as the light in semblance—crost 
Only by art in nature lost. 
And, though the jealous turf refuse 
By random footsteps to be prest. 
And feeds on never-sullied dews, 
Ye, gentle breezes from the West, 
With all the ministers of Hope, 
Are tempted to this sunny slope ! 
And hither throngs of Birds resort; 
Some, inmates lodged in shady nests. 
Some, perched on stems of stately port 
That nod to welcome transient guests; 
While Hare and Leveret, seen at play, 
Appear not more shut out than they. 
Apt emblem (for reproof of pride) 
This delicate Enclosure shows 
Of modest kindness, that would hide 
The firm protection she bestows; 
