Whose arching cliffs depending alders shade;
There, as meek Evening wakes her temperate breeze,
30 And moon-beams glimmer through the trembling trees,
The rills, that gurgle round, shall soothe her ear,
The weeping rocks shall number tear for tear;
There as sad Philomel, alike forlorn,
Sings to the Night from her accustomed thorn;
35 While at sweet intervals each falling note
Sighs in the gale, and whispers round the grot;
The sister-woe shall calm her aching breast,
And softer slumbers steal her cares to rest.--


[_Disasterous Love_. l. 26. The scenery is taken from a botanic garden
about a mile from Lichfield, where a cold bath was erected by Sir John
Floyer. There is a grotto surrounded by projecting rocks, from the edges
of which trickles a perpetual shower of water; and it is here
represented as adapted to love-scenes, as being thence a proper
residence for the modern goddess of Botany, and the easier to introduce
the next poem on the Loves of the Plants according to the system of
Linneus.]


"Winds of the North! restrain your icy gales,
40 Nor chill the bosom of these happy vales!
Hence in dark heaps, ye gathering Clouds, revolve!
Disperse, ye Lightnings! and, ye Mists, dissolve!
--Hither, emerging from yon orient skies,
BOTANIC GODDESS! bend thy radiant eyes;
45 O'er these soft scenes assume thy gentle reign,