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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530262" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Kensington Garden</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">______ Campos, ubi Troja fuit. <br>Virg.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Where Kensington, high o'er the neighbouring lands <br>Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands, <br>And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers, <br>A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers, <br>The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair <br>To gravel walks, and unpolluted air. <br>Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies, <br>They breathe in sun-shine, and see azure skies; <br>Each walk, with robes of various dyes bespread, <br>Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed, <br>Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow, <br>And chints, the rival of the showery bow. <br>Here England's daughter, darling of the land, <br>Sometimes, surrounded with her virgin band, <br>Gleams through the shades. She, towering o'er the rest, <br>Stands fairest of the fairer kind confest, <br>Form'd to gain hearts, that Brunswick's cause deny'd, <br>And charm a people to her father's side. <br>Long have these groves to royal guests been known, <br>Nor Nassau first prefer'd them to a throne. <br>Ere Norman banners wav'd in British air; <br>Ere lordly Hubba with the golden hair <br>Pour'd in his Danes; ere elder Julius came; <br>Or Dardan Brutus gave our isle a name; <br>A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood, <br>The scene of wars, and stain'd with lovers' blood. <br>You, who thro' gazing crowds, your captive throng, <br>Throw pangs and passions, as you move along, <br>Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes, <br>Where all unlevel'd the gay garden lies: <br>If generous anguish for another's pains <br>Ere heav'd your hearts, or shiver'd through your veins, <br>Look down attentive on the pleasing dale, <br>And listen to my melancholy tale. <br>That hollow space, were now in living rows <br>Line above line the yew's sad verdure grows, <br>Was, ere the planter's hand its beauty gave, <br>A common pit, a rude unfashion'd cave. <br>The landscape now so sweet we well may praise: <br>But far, far sweeter in its ancient days, <br>Far sweeter was it, when its peopled ground <br>With fairy domes and dazzling towers was crown'd. <br>Where in the midst those verdant pillars spring, <br>Rose the proud palace of the Elfin king; <br>For every edge of vegetable green, <br>In happier years a crowded street was seen; <br>Nor all those leaves that now the prospect grace, <br>Could match the numbers of its pygmy race, <br>What urg'd this mighty empire to its fate, <br>A tale of woe and wonder, I relate. <br>When Albion rul'd the land, whose lineage came <br>From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame, <br>Their midnight pranks the sprightly fairies play'd <br>On every hill, and danc'd in every shade. <br>But, foes to sun-shine, most they took delight <br>In dells and dales conceal'd from human sight: <br>There hew'd their houses in the arching rock; <br>Or scoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak; <br>Or heard, o'ershadow'd by some shelving hill, <br>The distant murmurs of the falling rill. <br>They, rich in pilfer'd spoils, indulg'd their mirth, <br>And pity'd the huge wretched sons of Earth. <br>Ev'n now, 'tis said, the hinds o'erhear their strain, <br>And strive to view their airy forms in vain: <br>They to their cells at man's approach repair, <br>Like the shy leveret, or the mother-hare, <br>The whilst poor mortals startle at the sound <br>Of unseen footsteps on the haunted ground. <br>Amid this garden, then with woods o'ergrown, <br>Stood the lov'd seat of royal Oberon. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">From every region to his palace-gate <br>Came peers and princes of the fairy state, <br>Who, rank'd in council round the sacred shade, <br>Their monarch's will and great behests obey'd. <br>From Thames' fair banks, by lofty towers adorn'd, <br>With loads of plunder oft his chiefs return'd: <br>Hence in proud robes, and colours bright and gay, <br>Shone every knight and every lovely fay. <br>Whoe'er on Powell's dazzling stage display'd, <br>Hath fam'd king Pepin and his court survey'd, <br>May guess, if old by modern things we trace, <br>The pomp and splendour of the fairy-race. <br>By magic fenc'd, by spells encompass'd round, <br>No mortal touch'd this interdicted ground; <br>No mortal enter'd, those alone who came <br>Stol'n from the couch of some terrestrial dame: <br>For oft of babes they robb'd the matron's bed, <br>And left some sickly changeling in their stead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It chanc'd a youth of Albion's royal blood <br>Was foster'd here, the wonder of the wood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Milkah for wiles above her peers renown'd, <br>Deep-skill'd in charms and many a mystic sound, <br>As through the regal dome she sought for prey, <br>Observ'd the infant Albion where he lay <br>In mantles broider'd o'er with georgeous pride, <br>And stole him from the sleeping mother's side. <br>Who now but Milkah triumphs in her mind! <br>Ah, wretched nymph, to future evils blind! <br>The time shall come when thou shalt dearly pay <br>The theft, hard-hearted! of that guilty day:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou in thy turn shalt like the queen repine, <br>And all her sorrows doubled shall be thine: <br>He who adorns thy house, the lovely boy <br>Who now adorns it, shall at length destroy. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two hundred moons in their pale course had seen <br>The gay-rob'd fairies glimmer on the green, <br>And Albion now had reach'd in youthful prime <br>To nineteen years, as mortals measure time. <br>Flush'd with resistless charms he fir'd to love <br>Each nymph and little Dryad of the grove; <br>For skilful Milkah spar'd not to employ <br>Her utmost art to rear the princely boy;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each supple limb she swath'd, and tender bone, <br>And to the Elfin standard kept him down; <br>She robb'd dwarf-elders of their fragrant fruit, <br>And fed him early with the daisy's root, <br>Whence through his veins the powerful juices ran, <br>And form'd in beauteous miniature the man. <br>Yet still, two inches taller than the rest, <br>His lofty port his human birth confest; <br>A foot in height, how stately did he show! <br>How look superior on the crowd below! <br>What knight like him could toss the rushy lance! <br>Who move so graceful in the mazy dance! <br>A shape so nice, or features half so fair, <br>What elf could boast! or such a flow of hair! <br>Bright Kenna saw, a princess born to reign, <br>And felt the charmer burn in every vein. <br>She, heiress to this empire's potent lord, <br>Prais'd like the stars, and next the Moon ador'd. <br>She, whom at distance thrones and princedoms view'd, <br>To whom proud Oriel and Azuriel sued, <br>In her high palace languish'd, void of joy, <br>And pin'd in secret for a mortal boy. <br>He too was smitten, and discreetly strove <br>By courtly deeds to gain the virgin's love. <br>For her he cull'd the fairest flower that grew, <br>Ere morning suns had drain'd their fragrant dew; <br>He chas'd the hornet in his mid-day flight, <br>And brought her glow-worms in the noon of night; <br>When on ripe fruits she cast a wishing eye, <br>Did ever Albion think the tree too high!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He show'd her where the pregnant goldfinch hung, <br>And the wren-mother brooding o'er her young; <br>To her th' inscription on their eggs he read, <br>(Admire, ye clerks, the youth whom Milkah bred) <br>To her he show'd each herb of virtuous juice, <br>Their powers distinguish'd, and describ'd their use: <br>All vain their powers, alas! to Kenna prove, <br>And well sung Ovid, ``There's no herb for love.'' <br>As when a ghost, enlarg'd from realms below, <br>Seeks its old friend to tell some secret woe,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The poor shade shivering stands, and must not break <br>His painful silence, till the mortal speak: <br>So far'd it with the little love-sick maid, <br>Forbid to utter, what her eyes betray'd. <br>He saw her anguish, and reveal'd his flame, <br>And spar'd the blushes of the tongue-ty'd dame. <br>The day would fail me, should I reckon o'er <br>The sighs they lavish'd, and the oaths they swore <br>In words so melting, that compar'd with those <br>The nicest courtship of terrestrial beaux <br>Would sound like compliments, from country clowns <br>To red cheek'd sweet-hearts in their home-spun gowns. <br>All in a lawn of many a various hue <br>A bed of flowers (a fairy forest) grew; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas here one noon, the gaudiest of the May, <br>The still, the secret, silent, hour of day, <br>Beneath a lofty tulip's ample shade <br>Sat the young lover and th' immortal maid. <br>They thought all fairies slept, ah, luckless pair! <br>Hid, but in vain, in the Sun's noon-tide glare!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Albion, leaning on his Kenna's breast, <br>Thus all the softness of his soul exprest: <br>``All things are hush'd. The Sun's meridian rays <br>Veil the horizon in one mighty blaze: <br>Nor moon nor star in Heaven's blue arch is seen <br>With kindly rays to silver o'er the green, <br>Grateful to fairy eyes; they secret take <br>Their rest, and only wretched mortals wake. <br>This dead of day I fly to thee alone, <br>A world to me, a multitude in one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, sweet as dew-drops on these flowery lawns, <br>When the sky opens, and the evening dawns! <br>Straight as the pink, that towers so high in air, <br>Soft as the blow-bell! as the daisy, fair! <br>Blest be the hour, when first I was convey'd <br>An infant captive to this blissful shade! <br>And blest the hand that did my form refine, <br>And shrunk my stature to a match with thine! <br>Glad I for thee renounce my royal birth, <br>And all the giant-daughters of the Earth. <br>Thou, if thy breast with equal ardour burn, <br>Renounce thy kind, and love for love return. <br>So from us two, combin'd by nuptial ties, <br>A race unknown of demi-gods shall rise. <br>O speak, my love! my vows with vows repay, <br>And sweetly swear my rising fears away.'' <br>To whom (the shining azure of her eyes <br>More brighten'd) thus th' enamour'd maid replies: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">``By all the stars, and first the glorious Moon, <br>I swear, and by the head of Oberon,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A dreadful oath! no prince of fairy line <br>Shall e'er in wedlock plight his vows with mine. <br>Where-e'er my footsteps in the dance are seen, <br>May toadstools rise, and mildews blast the green, <br>May the keen east-wind blight my favourite flowers, <br>And snakes and spotted adders haunt my bowers. <br>Confin'd whole ages in an hemlock shade <br>There rather pine I a neglected maid, <br>Or worse, exil'd from Cynthia's gentle rays, <br>Parch in the sun a thousand summer-days, <br>Than any prince, a prince of fairy line, <br>In sacred wedlock plight his vows with mine.'' <br>She ended: and with lips of rosy hue <br>Dipp'd five times over in ambrosial dew, <br>Stifled his words. When, from his covert rear'd, <br>The frowning brow of Oberon appear'd. <br>A sun-flower's trunk was near, whence (killing sight!) <br>The monarch issued, half an ell in height: <br>Full on the pair a furious look he cast, <br>Nor spoke; but gave his bugle-horn a blast,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That through the woodland echoed far and wide, <br>And drew a swarm of subjects to his side. <br>A hundred chosen knights, in war renown'd, <br>Drive Albion banish'd from the sacred ground; <br>And twice ten myriads guard the bright abodes, <br>Where the proud king, amidst his demi-gods, <br>For Kenna's sudden bridal bids prepare, <br>And to Azuriel gives the weeping fair. <br>If fame in arms, with ancient birth combin'd, <br>A faultless beauty, and a spotless mind,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To love and praise can generous souls incline, <br>That love, Azuriel, and that praise, was thine. <br>Blood only less than royal fill'd thy veins, <br>Proud was thy roof, and large thy fair domains. <br>Where now the skies high Holland-House invades, <br>And short-liv'd Warwick sadden'd all the shades, <br>Thy dwelling stood: nor did in him afford <br>A nobler owner, or a lovelier lord. <br>For thee a hundred fields produc'd their store, <br>And by thy name ten thousand vassals swore; <br>So lov'd thy name, that, at their monarch's choice, <br>All fairy shouted with a general voice. <br>Oriel alone a secret rage supprest, <br>That from his bosom heav'd the golden vest. <br>Along the banks of Thame his empire ran, <br>Wide was his range, and populous his clan. <br>When cleanly servants, if we trust old tales, <br>Beside their wages had good fairy vails, <br>Whole heaps of silver tokens, nightly paid, <br>The careful wife, or the neat dairy-maid,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sunk not his stores. With smiles and powerful bribes <br>He gain'd the leaders of his neighbour tribes, <br>And ere the night the face of Heaven had chang'd, <br>Beneath his banners half the fairies rang'd. <br>Meanwhile, driven back to Earth, a lonely way <br>The chearless Albion wander'd half the day, <br>A long, long journey, choak'd with brakes and thorns <br>Ill-measur'd by ten thousand barley-corns. <br>Tir'd out at length a spreading stream he spy'd <br>Fed by old Thame, a daughter of the tide:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas then a spreading stream, though now, its fame <br>Obscur'd, it bears the Creek's inglorious name, <br>And creeps, as through contracted bounds it strays, <br>A leap for boys in these degenerate days. <br>On the clear crystal's verdant bank he stood, <br>And thrice look'd backward on the fatal wood, <br>And thrice he groan'd, and thrice he beat his breast, <br>And thus in tears his kindred gods addrest. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">``If true, ye watery powers, my lineage came <br>From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down to his court, with coral garlands crown'd, <br>Through all your grottoes waft my plaintive sound, <br>And urge the god, whose trident shakes the Earth, <br>To grace his offspring, and assert my birth.'' <br>He said. A gentle Naiad heard his prayer, <br>And, touch'd with pity for a lover's care, <br>Shoots to the sea, where low beneath the tides <br>Old Neptune in th' unfathom'd deep resides. <br>Rouz'd at the news, the sea's stern sultan swore <br>Revenge, and scarce from present arms forbore;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But first the nymph his harbinger he sends, <br>And to her care the favourite boy commends. <br>As thro' the Thames her backward course she guides, <br>Driv'n up his current by the refluent tides, <br>Along his banks the pygmy legions spread <br>She spies, and haughty Oriel at their head, <br>Soon with wrong'd Albion's name the host she fires, <br>And counts the ocean's god, among his sires; <br>``The ocean's god, by whom shall be o'erthrown, <br>(Styx heard his oath) the tyrant Oberon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See here beneath a toadstool's deadly gloom <br>Lies Albion: him the Fates your leader doom. <br>Hear, and obey; 'tis Neptune's powerful call, <br>By him Azuriel and his king shall fall.'' <br>She said. They bow'd: and on their shields up-bore <br>With shouts their new saluted emperor. <br>E'en Oriel smil'd: at least to smile he strove, <br>And hopes of vengeance triumph'd over love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">See now the mourner of the lonely shade <br>By gods protected, and by hosts obey'd,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A slave, a chief, by fickle Fortune's play, <br>In the short course of one revolving day, <br>What wonder if the youth, so strangely blest, <br>Felt his heart flutter in his little breast! <br>His thick embattled troops, with secret pride, <br>He views extended half an acre wide; <br>More light he treads, more tall he seems to rise, <br>And struts a straw-breadth nearer to the skies. <br>O for thy Muse, great Bard, whose lofty strains <br>In battle join'd the Pygmies and the Cranes;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each gaudy knight, had I that warmth divine, <br>Each colour'd legion in my verse should shine. <br>But simple I, and innocent of art, <br>The tale, that sooth'd my infant years, impart, <br>The tale I heard whole winter-eves, untir'd, <br>And sing the battles, that my nurse inspir'd. <br>Now the shrill corn-pipes, echoing loud to arms, <br>To rank and file reduce the straggling swarms, <br>Thick rows of spears at once, with sudden glare, <br>A grove of needles, glitter in the air;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Loose in the winds small ribbon-streamers flow, <br>Dipt in all colours of the heavenly-bow, <br>And the gay host, that now its march pursues, <br>Gleams o'er the meadows in a thousand hues. <br>On Buda's plains thus formidably bright, <br>Shone Asia's sons, a pleasing dreadful sight. <br>In various robes their silken troops were seen, <br>The blue, the red, and prophet's sacred green: <br>When blooming Brunswick, near the Danube's flood, <br>First stain'd his maiden sword in Turkish blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unseen and silent march the slow brigades <br>Through pathless wilds, and unfrequented shades. <br>In hope already vanquish'd by surprise, <br>In Albion's power the fairy empire lies; <br>Already has he seiz'd on Kenna's charms, <br>And the glad beauty trembles in his arms. <br>The march concludes: and now in prospect near, <br>But fenc'd with arms, the hostile towers appear, <br>For Oberon, or Druids falsely sing, <br>Wore his prime visier in a magic ring,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A subtle spright, that opening plots foretold <br>By sudden dimness on the beamy gold. <br>Hence, in a cresent form'd, his legions bright <br>With beating bosoms waited for the fight; <br>To charge their foes they march, a glittering band, <br>And in their van doth bold Azuriel stand. <br>What rage that hour did Albion's soul possess, <br>Let chiefs imagine, and let lovers guess! <br>Forth issuing from his ranks, that strove in vain <br>To check his course, athwart the dreadful plain</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He strides indignant: and with haughty cries <br>To single fight the fairy prince defies. <br>Forbear! rash youth, th' unequal war to try; <br>Nor, sprung from mortals, with immortals vie. <br>No god stands ready to avert thy doom, <br>Nor yet thy grandsire of the waves is come. <br>My words are vain -- no words the wretch can move, <br>By Beauty dazzled, and bewitch'd by Love: <br>He longs, he burns, to win the glorious prize, <br>And sees no danger, while he sees her eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now from each host the eager warriors start. <br>And furious Albion flings his hasty dart, <br>'Twas feather'd from the bee's transparent wing, <br>And its shaft ended in a hornet's sting; <br>But, tost in rage, it flew without a wound, <br>High o'er the foe, and guiltless pierc'd the ground. <br>Not so Azuriel's: with unerring aim, <br>Too near the needle-pointed javelin came, <br>Drove through the seven-fold shield, and silken vest, <br>And lightly ras'd the lover's ivory breast. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rouz'd at the smart, and rising to the blow, <br>With his keen sword he cleaves his fairy foe, <br>Sheer from the shoulder to the waste he cleaves, <br>And of one arm the tottering trunk bereaves. <br>His useless steel brave Albion wields no more, <br>But sternly smiles, and thinks the combat o'er: <br>So had it been, had aught of mortal strain, <br>Or less than fairy, felt the deadly pain. <br>But empyreal forms, howe'er in fight <br>Gash'd and dismember'd, easily unite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As some frail cup of China's purest mold, <br>With azure varnish'd, and bedropt with gold, <br>Though broke, if cur'd by some nice virgin's hands, <br>In its old strength and pristine beauty stands; <br>The tumults of the boiling bohea braves, <br>And holds secure the coffee's sable waves: <br>So did Azuriel's arm, if Fame say true, <br>Rejoin the vital trunk whence first it grew; <br>And, whilst in wonder fix'd poor Albion stood, <br>Plung'd the curs'd sabre in his heart's warm blood. <br>The golden broidery, tender Milkah wove, <br>The breast, to Kenna sacred and to Love, <br>Lie rent and mangled: and the gaping wound <br>Pours out a flood of purple on the ground. <br>The jetty lustre sickens in his eyes: <br>On his cold cheeks the bloomy freshness dies; <br>``Oh Kenna, Kenna,'' thrice he try'd to say, <br>``Kenna, farewel!'' and sigh'd his soul away. <br>His fall the Dryads with loud shrieks deplore, <br>By sister Naiads echo'd from the shore,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thence down to Neptune's secret realms convey'd, <br>Through grotts, and glooms, and many a coral shade. <br>The sea's great sire, with looks denouncing war, <br>The trident shakes, and mounts the pearly car: <br>With one stern frown the wide-spread deep deforms, <br>And works the madding ocean into storms. <br>O'er foaming mountains, and through bursting tides, <br>Now high, now low, the bounding chariot rides, <br>Till through the Thames in a loud whirlwind's roar <br>It shoots, and lands him on the destin'd shore. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now fix'd on earth his towering stature stood, <br>Hung o'er the mountains, and o'erlook'd the wood. <br>To Brumpton's grove one ample stride he took, <br>(The valleys trembled, and the forests shook) <br>The next huge step reach'd the devoted shade, <br>Where choak'd in blood was wretched Albion laid: <br>Where now the vanquish'd, with the victors join'd, <br>Beneath the regal banners stood combin'd. <br>Th' embattled dwarfs with rage and scorn he past, <br>And on their town his eye vindictive cast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In deep foundations his strong trident cleaves. <br>And high in air th' up-rooted empire heaves; <br>On his broad engine the vast ruin hung, <br>Which on the foe with force divine he flung: <br>Aghast the legions, in th' approaching shade, <br>Th' inverted spires and rocking domes survey'd, <br>That, downward tumbling on the host below, <br>Crush'd the whole nation at one dreadful blow. <br>Towers, arms, nymphs, warriors, are together lost, <br>And a whole empire falls to sooth said Albion's ghost. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such was the period, long restrain'd by Fate, <br>And such the downfall of the fairy state. <br>This dale, a pleasing region, not unblest, <br>This dale possest they; and had still possest; <br>Had not their monarch, with a father's pride, <br>Rent from her lord th' inviolable bride, <br>Rash to dissolve the contract seal'd above, <br>The solemn vows and sacred bonds of love. <br>Now, where his elves so sprightly danc'd the round, <br>No violet breathes, nor daisy paints the ground,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His towers and people fill one common grave, <br>A shapeless ruin, and a barren cave. <br>Beneath huge hills of smoking piles he lay <br>Stunn'd and confounded a whole summer's day, <br>At length awak'd (for what can long restrain <br>Unbody'd spirits!) but awak'd in pain: <br>And as he saw the desolated wood, <br>And the dark den where once his empire stood, <br>Grief chill'd his heart: to his half-open'd eyes <br>In every oak a Neptune seem'd to rise:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He fled: and left, with all his trembling peers, <br>The long possession of a thousand years. <br>Through bush, through brake, through groves, and gloomy dales, <br>Through dank and dry, o'er streams and flowery vales, <br>Direct they fled; but often look'd behind, <br>And stopt and started at each rustling wind. <br>Wing'd with like fear, his abdicated bands <br>Disperse and wander into different lands. <br>Part hid beneath the Peak's deep caverns lie, <br>In silent glooms, impervious to the sky;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Part on fair Avon's margin seek repose, <br>Whose stream o'er Britain's midmost region flows, <br>Where formidable Neptune never came, <br>And seas and oceans are but known by fame: <br>Some to dark woods and secret shade retreat: <br>And some on mountains choose their airy seat. <br>There haply by the ruddy damsel seen, <br>Or shepherd-boy, they featly foot the green, <br>While from their steps a circling verdure springs; <br>But fly from towns, and dread the courts of kings. <br>Mean-while said Kenna, loth to quit the grove, <br>Hung o'er the body of her breathless love, <br>Try'd every art, (vain arts!) to change his doom, <br>And vow'd (vain vows!) to join him in the tomb. <br>What could she do? the Fates alike deny <br>The dead to live, or fairy forms to die. <br>An herb there grows (the same old Homer tells <br>Ulysses bore to rival Circe's spells) <br>Its root is ebon-black, but sends to light <br>A stem that bends with flowrets milky white,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moly the plant, which gods and fairies know, <br>But secret kept from mortal men below. <br>On his pale limbs its virtuous juice she shed, <br>And murmur'd mystic numbers o'er the dead, <br>When lo! the little shape by magic power <br>Grew less and less, contracted to a flower; <br>A flower, that first in this sweet garden smil'd, <br>To virgins sacred, and the Snow-drop styl'd. <br>The new-born plant with sweet regret she view'd, <br>Warm'd with her sighs, and with her tears bedew'd,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Its ripen'd seeds from bank to bank convey'd, <br>And with her lover whiten'd half the shade. <br>Thus won from death each spring she sees him grow, <br>And glorious in the vegetable snow, <br>Which now increas'd through wide Britannia's plains, <br>Its parent's warmth and spotless name retains, <br>First leader of the flowery race aspires, <br>And foremost catches the Sun's genial fires, <br>'Mid frosts and snows triumphant dares appear, <br>Mingles the seasons, and leads on the year. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deserted now of all the pigmy race, <br>Nor man nor fairy touch'd this guilty place. <br>In heaps on heaps, for many a rolling age, <br>It lay accurs'd, the mark of Neptune's rage, <br>Till great Nassau recloath'd the desert shade, <br>Thence sacred to Britannia's monarchs made. <br>'Twas then the green-rob'd nymph, fair Kenna came, <br>(Kenna that gave the neighbouring town its name) <br>Proud when she saw th' ennobled garden shine, <br>With nymphs and heroes of her lover's line, <br>She vow'd to grace the mansions once her own. <br>And picture out in plants the fairy town. <br>To far-fam'd Wise her flight unseen she sped, <br>And with gay prospects fill'd the craftsman's head, <br>Soft in his fancy drew a pleasing scheme, <br>And plann'd that landscape in a morning dream. <br>With the sweet view the sire of gardens fir'd, <br>Attempts the labour by the nymph inspir'd, <br>The walls and streets in rows of yew designs, <br>And forms the town in all its ancient lines;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The corner trees he lifts more high in air, <br>And girds the palace with a verdant square; <br>Nor knows, while round he views the rising scenes, <br>He builds a city as he plants his greens. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With a sad pleasure the aërial maid <br>This image of her ancient realms survey'd, <br>How chang'd, how fall'n from its primeval pride! <br>Yet here each moon, the hour her lover dy'd, <br>Each moon his solemn obsequies she pays, <br>And leads the dance beneath pale Cynthia's rays;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pleas'd in these shades to head her fairy train, <br>And grace the groves where Albion's kinsmen reign.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Tickell">Thomas Tickell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530262" data-title="Kensington Garden de Thomas Tickell" data-description="______ Campos, ubi Troja fuit. 
Virg.


Where Kensington, high o'er the neighbouring lands 
Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands, 
And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers, 
A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers, 
The dames of ..."></div>
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