THE LAKE;

OR,

MODERN IMPROVEMENT IN LANDSCAPE.

GRAND, ancient, gothic, mark this ample dome,
Of fashion's slave, the uncongenial home!
Long have its turrets braved the varying clime,
And mock'd the ravage of relentless time.

The owner shrugs his shoulders, and deplores
One vile effect of his self-squander'd stores,
That the triste edifice must still remain

To shock his lordship's gaze, and blot the plain;
That no gay villa may supply its place,
Rise in Italian, or in Gallic grace.

shine;

"But, yet," he cries, "by Fashion's aid divine, "Rescued from sylvan shrouds, my scenes may "Resistless goddess, to thy votary come, "And chace the horrors of this leafy gloom!"

She comes!-the gaudy despot stands confest,
Known by her mien assur'd, and motley vest;
The vest, mistaken by her servile train
For beauty's robe of sky-enwoven grain,
Deck'd with each varying form, each living huc,
That Nature hallow'd, and her REPTON drew.

Scorning their power, and reckless of expense, The foe of beauty, and the bane of sense; Close by my lord, and with strange projects warm, Stalks o'er the scenes her edicts shall deform.

"Yon broad, brown wood, now darkening to the

“ sky,

"Shall prostrate soon with perish'd branches lie; "Yield golden treasures for our great design, "Till all the scene one glassy surface shine."

Mid shrubs, and tangled grass, with sparkling

waves,

A little vagrant brook the valley laves;

Now hid, now seen, the wanton waters speed,
Hurrying loquacious o'er their pebbly bed.

"A Lake! she cries, this source can never fail, "A lake shall fill our undulating dale!

"No more the dingles shall sink dark and deep,

"No waving hedgerows round the meadows sweep;

"All must be Lake this level lawn between,

"And those bare hills, and rocks, that form the

66 screen,

"Peer o'er the yet proud woods, and close the " scene."

What recks it her that, many a tedious year,
Barren and bleak its naked banks appear!
Since, tho' the pliant Naiad swiftly pours
Her urn exhaustless to receding shores,
Sullen and tardy found, the Dryad train
Are still, thro' circling seasons, woo'd in vain,
Ere the dusk umbrage shall luxuriant flow,
And shadowy tremble o'er the lake below;
Which curtain'd thus, changes its leaden hue,
Rising a silver mirror to the view.

See, at the pert behest, subservient toil Plough with the victim woods the echoing soil! See, the forced flood th' o'erwhelmed valley laves, O'er fields, lanes, thickets, spread the silent waves!No lively hue of spring they know to wear, No gorgeous glow of the consummate year; No tinge that gold-empurpled autumn spreads O'er the rich woodland, sloping from the meads, But stagnant, mute, unvarying, cold, and pale, They meet the winter-wind, and summer-gale.

-

Between the base of yonder gothic pile,
Whose towers frown sullen o'er the wat❜ry spoil,
And the chill lake's uncomfortable breast,
Lo! on the lawn, with venerable crest,
A few old oaks defend the tired survey,

In part, from that dull pool's eternal grey;
While, gleaming, underneath their darksome boughs,
With better grace the torpid water shows.
Again the dame her swarthy agents calls,
Raised is the ready axe-and-ah! it falls!
They who had seen whole centuries roll away,
No more half-veil the lake, and mitigate the day.

Too late the slumbering Genius of the scene
Starts from his mossy couch, with wilder'd mien;
Dismay'd beholds, and all too late to save,
His graces destined to a watery grave;

His winding brook, green wood, and mead and dell,
His grassy lanes, and moss-encircled well;
And for the guardian oaks, now prostrate laid,
His winter screen, his sultry summer's shade,
Sees the weak saplings, dotted on the lawn,
With dark and clumsy fence around them drawn,
Warp in the noon-tide ray, with shrivell'd rind,
And shrink, and tremble in the rising wind.

In vain he curses the fantastic power, And the pale ravage of her idiot-hour;

But no vindictive ire the spell revokes,
Fall'n are the woods, and lawn-adorning oaks!
Fled every varied charm boon Nature gave,

No green field blossoms, and no hedge-rows wave!
On the dim waters nods the useless sail,

And Eurus howls along the deluged vale.

His reign usurp'd, since Time can ne'er restore, Indignant rising to return no more, His eyes concealing with one lifted hand, Shadowing the waters, as his wings expand, The injured Genius seeks the d stant coast, Like Abdiel, flying from the rebel host.