Note 92 — English Authors on Gardening. (continued 3)

The following passage from a favourite book of Dr. Darwin's, (the System of Nature, by Linnæus) will well apply to that searching and penetrating mind, which so strongly possessed him through life.—"How small a part of the great works of nature is laid open to our eyes, and how many things are going on in secret which we know nothing of! How many things are there which this age first was acquainted with! How many things that we are ignorant of will come to light when all memory of us shall be no more! for nature does not at once reveal all her secrets. We are apt to look on ourselves as already admitted into the sanctuary of her temple; we are still only in the porch." How full of grace, of tenderness, and passion, is that elegy, which he composed the night he feared a life he so passionately loved (Mrs. Pole, of Radburn,) was in imminent danger, and when he dreamed she was dead:

Stretch'd on her sable bier, the grave beside, A snow-white shroud her breathless bosom bound, O'er her white brow the mimic lace was tied, And loves, and virtues, hung their garlands round.

From these cold lips did softest accents flow? Round that pale mouth did sweetest dimples play? On this dull cheek the rose of beauty blow, And those dim eyes diffuse celestial rays?

Did this cold hand unasking want relieve, Or wake the lyre to every rapturous sound? How sad, for other's woes, this breast could heave! How light this heart, for other's transport, bound!