KENSINGTON GARDEN.

KENSINGTON GARDEN . By the Same . Campos , ubi Troja fuit . Virg. Virgil, Aeneid 3.11, "the plains, where once was Troy." WHERE Kensington high o'er the neighb'ring lands , 'Midst greens and sweets , a regal fabrick stands , And sees each spring , luxuriant in her bowers , A snow of blossoms , and a wild of flowers , The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair To groves and lawns , and unpolluted air . Here , while the town in damps and darkness lies , They breathe in sun-shine , and see azure skies Each walk , with robes of various dies bespread , Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed , Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow , And chints , the rival of the show'ry bow . Here England's Daughter , darling of the land , Sometimes , surrounded with her virgin band , Gleams through the shades . She , tow'ring o'er the rest , Stands fairest of the fairer kind confess'd , Form'd to gain hearts , that Brunswick's cause deny'd , And charm a people to her father's side . Long have these groves to royal guests been known , Nor Nassan first prefer'd them to a throne . Ere Norman banners wav'd in British air ; Ere lordly Hubba with the golden hair Pour'd in his Danes ; ere elder Julius came ; Or Dardan Brutus gave our isle a name ; A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood , The scene of wars , and stain'd with lovers' blood . You , who through gazing crowds , your captive throng , Throw pangs and passions , as you move along , Turn on the left , ye fair , your radiant eyes , Where all un-levell'd the gay garden lies : If generous anguish for another's pains Ere heav'd your hearts , or shiver'd through your veins , Look down attentive on the pleasing dale , And listen to my melancholy tale . That hollow space , where now in living rows , Line above line the yew's sad verdure grows , Was , ere the planter's hand its beauty gave , A common pit , a rude unfashion'd cave ; The landskip now so sweet we well may praise , But far , far sweeter in its ancient days , Far sweeter was it , when its peopled ground With fairy domes and dazzling tow'rs were crown'd . Where in the midst those verdant pillars spring , Rose the proud palace of the Elfin king ; For every hedge of vegetable green , In happier years a crowded street was seen , Nor all those leaves , that now the prospect grace , Could match the numbers of its pigmy race . What urg'd this mighty empire to its fate , A tale of woe and wonder I relate . When Albion rul'd the land , whose lineage came From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame , Their midnight pranks the sprightly fairies play'd On ev'ry hill , and danc'd in every shade . But , foes to sun-shine , most they took delight In dells and dales conceal'd from human sight : There hew'd their houses in the arching rock ; Or scoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak ; Or heard , o'ershadow'd by some shelving hill , The distant murmurs of the falling rill . They , rich in pilfer'd spoils , indulg'd their mirth , And pity'd the huge wretched sons of earth . Even now , 'tis said , the hinds o'erheard their strain , And strive to view their airy forms in vain ; They to their cells at man's approach repair , Like the shy leveret , or the mother hare , The whilst poor mortals startle at the sound Of unseen footsteps on the haunted ground . Amid this garden , then with woods o'ergrown , Stood the lov'd seat of royal Oberon . From every region to his palace gate Came peers and princes of the fairy state , Who , rank'd in council round the sacred shade , Their monarch's will and great behests obey'd . From Thame's fair banks , by lofty tow'rs adorn'd , With loads of plunder oft his chiefs return'd : Hence in proud robes , and colours bright and gay , Shone every knight and every lovely fay . Whoe'er on Powell's dazzling stage display'd Hath fam'd king Pepin and his court survey'd , May guess , if old by modern things we trace , The pomp and splendor of the fairy race . By magic fenc'd , by spell encompass'd round , No mortal touch'd this interdicted ground ; No mortal enter'd , those alone who came Stolen from the couch of some terrestrial dame : For oft of babes they robb'd the matron's bed , And left some sickly changeling in their stead . It chanc'd a youth of Albion's royal blood Was foster'd here , the wonder of the wood ; Milkah , for wiles above her peers renown'd , Deep-skill'd in charms and many a mystic sound , As through the regal dome she sought for prey , Observ'd the infant Albion where he lay In mantles broider'd o'er with gorgeous pride , And stole him from the sleeping mother's side . Who now but Milkah triumphs in her mind ! Ah wretched nymph , to future evils blind ! The time shall come when thou shalt dearly pay The theft , hard-hearted ! of that guilty day : Thou in thy turn shalt like the queen repine , And all her sorrows doubled shall be thine : He who adorns thy house , the lovely boy Who now adorns it , shall at length destroy . Two hundred moons in their pale course had seen The gay-rob'd fairies glimmer on the green , And Albion now had reach'd in youthful prime To nineteen years , as mortals measure time . Flush'd with resistless charms he fir'd to love Each nymph and little Dryad of the grove ; For skilful Milkah spar'd not to employ Her utmost art to rear the princely boy . Each supple limb she swaith'd , and tender bone , And to the Elsin standard kept him down ; She robb'd dwarf-elders of their fragrant fruit , And fed him early with the daisy's root , Whence through his veins the powerful juices ran , And form'd in beauteous miniature the Man . Yet still , two inches teller than the rest , His lofty port his human birth confess'd ; A foot in height , how stately did he show ! How look superior on the crowd below ! What knight like him could toss the rushy launce ! Who move so graceful in the mazy dance ! A shape so nice , or features half so fair , What elf could boast ! or such a flow of hair ! Bright Kenna saw , a princess born to reign , And felt the charmer burn in every vein . She , heiress to this empire's potent lord , Prais'd like the stars , and next the moon ador'd . She , whom at distance thrones and princedoms view'd , To whom proud Oriel and Azuriel su'd , In her high palace languish'd , void of joy , And pin'd in secret for a mortal boy . He too was smitten , and discreetly strove By courtly deeds to gain the virgin's love ; For her he cull'd the fairest flowers that grew , Ere morning suns had drain'd their fragrant dew ; He chas'd the hornet in his mid-day flight , And brought her glow-worms in the noon of night ; When on ripe fruit she cast a wishing eye , Did ever Albion think the tree too high ! He show'd her where the pregnant goldfinch hung , And the wren-mother brooding o'er her young ; To her th' inscription on their eggs he read , ( Admire , ye clerks , the youth whom Milkah bred ) To her he show'd each herb of virtuous juice , Their powers distinguish'd , and describ'd their use : All vain their powers alas to Kenna prove , And well sung Ovid , There's no herb for love . As when a ghost , enlarg'd from realms below , Seeks its old friend to tell some secret woe , The poor shade shivering stands , and must not break His painful silence , till the mortal speak ; So far'd it with the little love-sick maid , Forbid to utter what her eyes betray'd . He saw her anguish , and reveal'd his flame , And spar'd the blushes of the tongue-ty'd dame . The day would fail me , should I reckon o'er The sighs they lavish'd , and the oaths they swore ; In words so melting , that , compar'd with those , The nicest courtship of terrestrial beaus Wou'd sound like compliments from country-clowns To red-cheek'd sweet-hearts in their home-spun gowns . All in a lawn of many a various hue , A bed of flowers ( a fairy forest ) grew ; 'Twas here one noon , the gaudiest of the May , The still , the secret , silent hour of day , Beneath a lofty tulip's ample shade Sate the young lover and th' immortal maid . They thought all fairies slept , ah luckless pair ! Hid , but in vain , in the sun's noon-tide glare ! When Albion leaning on his Kenna's breast , Thus all the softness of his soul express'd . ' All things are hush'd . The sun's meridian rays ' Veil the horizon in one mighty blaze ; ' Nor moon nor star in heav'n's blue arch is seen ' With kindly rays to silver o'er the green . ' Grateful to fairy eyes ; they secret take ' Their rest , and only wretched mortals wake . ' This dead of day I fly to thee alone , ' A world to me , a multitude in one . ' Oh sweet as dew-drops on these flowery lawns , ' When the sky opens and the evening dawns ! ' Streight as the pink , that tours so high in air ' Soft as the blue-bell ! as the daisy , fair ' Blest be the hour , when first I was convey'd ' An infant captive to this blissful shade ! ' And blest the hand that did my form refine , ' And shrunk my stature to a match with thine ! ' Glad I for thee renounce my royal birth ; ' And all the giant-daughters of the earth . ' Thou , if thy breast with equal ardour burn , ' Renounce thy kind , and love for love return . ' So from us two , combin'd by nuptial ties , ' A race unknown of demi-gods shall rise . ' Oh speak , my love ! my vows with vows repay , ' And sweetly swear my rising fears away . ' To whom ( the shining azure of her eyes More brighten'd ) thus th' enamour'd maid replies . ' By all the stars , and first the glorious moon , ' I swear , and by the head of Oberon , ' A dreadful oath ! no prince of fairy line ' Shall e'er in wedlock plight his vows with mine . ' Where-e'er my footsteps in the dance are seen , ' May toadstools rise , and mildews blast the green , ' May the keen east-wind blight my fav'rite flowers , ' And snakes and spotted adders haunt my bowers . ' Confin'd whole ages in an hemlock shade , ' There rather pine I a neglected maid ; ' Or worse , exil'd from Cynthia's gentle rays , ' Parch in the sun a thousand summer-days , ' Than any prince , a prince of fairy line , ' In sacred wedlock plight his vows with mine . ' She ended : and with lips of rosy hue Dipt five times over in ambrosial dew , Stifled his words . When from his covert rear'd , The frowning brow of Oberon appear'd . A sun-flower's trunk was near , whence ( killing sight ! ) The monarch issu'd , half an ell in height : Full on the pair a furious look he cast , Nor spake , but gave his bugle-horn a blast , That through the woodland echo'd far and wide , And drew a swarm of subjects to his side . A hundred chosen knights , in war renown'd , Drive Albion banish'd from the sacred ground ; And twice ten myriads guard the bright abodes , Where the proud king , among his demi-gods , For Kenna's sudden bridal bids prepare , And to Azuriel gives the weeping fair . If fame in arms , with ancient birth combin'd , And faultless beauty , and a spotless mind , To love and praise can generous souls incline , That love , Azuriel , and that praise were thine . Blood , only less than royal , fill'd thy veins , Proud was thy roof , and large thy fair domains , Where now the skies high Holland-house invades , And short-liv'd Warwick sadden'd all the shades , Thy dwelling stood ; nor did in him afford A nobler owner , or a lovelier lord . For thee a hundred fields produc'd their store , And by thy name ten thousand vassals swore ; So lov'd thy name , that , at their monarch's choice , All Fairy shouted with a gen'ral voice . Oriel alone a secret rage suppress'd , That from his bosom heav'd the golden vest . Along the banks of Thame his empire ran , Wide was his range , and populous his clan . When cleanly servants , if we trust old tales , Besides their wages had good fairy vails , Whole heaps of silver tokens , nightly paid The careful wife or the neat dairy-maid , Sunk not his stores . With smiles and powerful bribes He gain'd the leaders of his neighbour tribes , And ere the night the face of heav'n had chang'd , Beneath his banners half the fairies rang'd . Mean-while driven back to earth , a lonely way The chearless Albion wander'd half the day , A long , long journey , choak'd with brakes and thorns , Ill-measur'd by ten thousand barley-corns . Tir'd out at length , a spreading stream he spy'd Fed by old Thame , a daughter of the tide : 'Twas then a spreading stream , though now its fame Obscur'd , it bears the creek's inglorious name , And creeps , as through contracted bounds it strays , A leap for boys in these degenerate days . On the clear crystal's verdant bank he stood , And thrice look'd backward on the fatal wood , And thrice he groan'd , and thrice he beat his breast , And thus in tears his kindred gods address'd . ' If true , ye watery powers , my lineage came ' From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame ; ' Down to his court , with coral garlands crown'd , ' Through all your grottoes waft my plaintive sound , ' And urge the god , whose trident shakes the earth , ' To grace his off-spring , and assert my birth . ' He said . A gentle Naiad heard his prayer , And , touch'd with pity for a lover's care , Shoots to the sea , where low beneath the tides Old Neptune in th' unfathom'd depth resides . Rous'd at the news the sea's stern sultan swore Revenge , and scarce from present arms forbore ; But first the nymph his harbinger he sends , And to her care his fav'rite boy commends . As through the Thames her backward course she guides , Driven up his current by the refluent tides , Along his banks the pygmy legions spread She spies , and haughty Oriel at their head . Soon with wrong'd Albion's name the host she fires , And counts the ocean's god among his sires ; ' The ocean's god , by whom shall be o'erthrown ' ( Styx hear'd his oath ) the tyrant Oberon . ' See here beneath a toadstool's deadly gloom ' Lies Albion : Him the Fates your leader doom . ' Hear and obey ; 'tis Neptune's powerful call , ' By him Azuriel and his king shall fall . ' She said . They bow'd : and on their shield up-bore With shouts their new-saluted emperor . Even Oriel smil'd : at least to smile he strove , And hopes of vengeance triumph'd over love . See now the mourner of the lonely shade By gods protected , and by hosts obey'd , A slave , a chief , by fickle Fortune's play , In the short course of one revolving day . What wonder if the youth , so strangely blest , Felt his heart flutter in his little breast ! His thick-embattel'd troops , with secret pride , He views extended half an acre wide ; More light he treads , more tall he seems to rise , And struts a straw-breadth nearer to the skies . O for thy Muse , Mr. ADDISON . great Bard , whose lofty strains In battle join'd the Pygmies and the Cranes ! Each gandy knight , had I that warmth divine , Each colour'd legion in my verse should shine . But simple I , and innocent of art , The tale , that sooth'd my infant years , impart , The tale I heard whole winter eves , untir'd , And sing the battles , that my nurse inspir'd . Now the shrill corn-pipes , echoing loud to arms , To rank and file reduce the straggling swarms . Thick rows of spears at once , with sudden glare , A grove of needles , glitter in the air ; Loose in the wind small ribbon streamers flow , Dipt in all colours of the heav'nly bow , And the gay host , that now its march pursues , Gleams o'er the meadows in a thousand hues . On Buda's plains thus formidably bright , Shone Asia's sons , a pleasing dreadful sight . In various robes their silken troops were seen , The blue , the red , and prophet's sacred green : When blooming BRUNSWICK near the Danube's flood , First stained his maiden sword in Turkish blood . Unseen and silent march the slow brigades Through pathless wilds , and unfrequented shades . In hopes already vanquish'd by surprize , In Albion's power the fairy empire lies ; Already has he seiz'd on Kenna's charms , And the glad beauty trembles in his arms . The march concludes ; and now in prospect near , But fenc'd with arms , the hostile towers appear , For Oberon , or Druids falsely sing , Wore his prime visir in a magick ring . A subtle spright , that opening plots foretold By sudden dimness on the beamy gold . Hence in a crescent form'd , his legions bright With beating bosoms waited for the fight ; To charge their foes they march , a glitt'ring band , And in their van doth bold Azuriel stand . What rage that hour did Albion's soul possess , Let chiefs imagine , and let lovers guess ! Forth issuing from his ranks , that strove in vain To check his course , athwart the dreadful plain He strides indignant : and with haughty cries To single fight the fairy prince defies . Forbear , rash youth , th' unequal war to try ; Nor , sprung from mortals , with immortals vie . No god stands ready to avert thy doom , Nor yet thy grandsire of the waves is come . My words are vain — no words the wretch can move , By beauty dazled , and betwich'd by love : He longs , he burns to win the glorious prize , And sees no danger , while he sees her eyes . Now from each host the eager warriors start , And furious Albion flings his hasty dart : 'Twas feather'd from the bee's transparent wing , And its shaft ended in a hornet's sting ; But , toss'd in rage , it flew without a wound , High o'er the foe , and guiltless pierc'd the ground , Not so Azuriel's : with un-erring aim Too near the needle-pointed jav'lin came , Drove through the seven-fold shield , and silken vest , And lightly ras'd the lover's ivory breast . Rous'd at the smart , and rising to the blow , With his keen sword he cleaves his fairy foe , Sheer from the shoulder to the waist he cleaves , And of one arm the tott'ring trunk bereaves . His useless steel brave Albion wields no more , But sternly smiles , and thinks the combat o'er : So had it been , had aught of mortal strain , Or less than fairy felt the deadly pain . But empyreal forms , howe'er in fight Gash'd and dismember'd , easily unite . As some frail cup of China's purest mold , With azure varnish'd , and bedrop'd with gold , Tho' broke , if cur'd by some nice virgin's hands , In its old strength and pristine beauty stands ; The tumults of the boiling Bohea braves , And hold secure the Coffee's sable waves : So did Azuriel's arm , if fame say true , Rejoin the vital trunk whence first it grew ; And , whilst in wonder fix'd poor Albion stood , Plung'd the curs'd sabre in his heart's warm blood . The golden broidery tender Milkah wove , The breast to Kenna sacred and to love , Lie rent and mangled : and the gaping wound Pours out a flood of purple on the ground . The jetty lustre sickens in his eyes : On his cold cheeks the bloomy freshness dies ; ' Oh Kenna , Kenna , thrice he try'd to say , ' Kenna farewel : ' and sigh'd his soul away . His fall the Dryads with loud shrieks deplore , By sister Naiads echo'd from the shore , Thence down to Neptune's secret realms convey'd , Through grots , and glooms , and many a coral shade . The sea's great sire , with looks denouncing war , The trident shakes , and mounts the pearly carr : With one stern frown the wide-spread deep deforms , And works the madding ocean into storms . O'er foaming mountains , and through bursting tides , Now high , now low , the bounding chariot rides , 'Till through the Thames in a loud whirlwind's roar It shoots , and lands him on the destin'd shore . Now fix'd on earth his tow'ring stature stood , Hung o'er the mountains , and o'erlook'd the wood . To Brumpton's grove one ample stride he took , ( The valleys trembled , and the forests shook ) The next huge step reach'd the devoted shade , Where choak'd in blood was wretched Albion laid : Where now the vanquish'd , with the victors join'd , Beneath the regal banners stood combin'd . Th' embattel'd dwarfs with rage and scorn he past , And on their town his eye vindictive cast . Its deep foundations his strong trident cleaves , And high in air th' up-rooted empire heaves ; On his broad engine the vast ruin hung , Which on the foe with force divine he flung ; Aghast the legions in th' approaching shade , Th' inverted spires and rocking domes survey'd , That downward tumbling on the host below Crush'd the whole nation at one dreadful blow . Towers , arms , nymphs , warriors , are together lost , And a whole empire falls to sooth sad Albion's ghost . Such was the period , long restrain'd by Fate , And such the downfal of the fairy state . This dale , a pleasing region , not unblest , This dale possess'd they ; and had still possess'd , Had not their monarch , with a father's pride , Rent from her lord th' inviolable bride , Rash to dissolve the contract seal'd above , The solemn vows and sacred bonds of love . Now , where his elves so brightly danc'd the round , No violet breathes , nor daisy paints the ground , His towers and people fill one common grave , A shapeless ruin , and a barren cave . Beneath huge hills of smoaking piles he lay Stun'd and confounded a whole summer's day . At length awak'd ( for what can long restrain Unbody'd spirits ! ) but awak'd in pain : And as he saw the desolated wood , And the dark den where once his empire stood , Grief chill'd his heart : to his half-open'd eyes In every oak a Neptune seem'd to rise : He fled : and left , with all his trembling peers , The long possession of a thousand years . Thro' bush , thro' brake , thro' groves and gloomy dales , Thro' dank and dry , o'er streams and flowery vales , Direct they fled ; but often look'd behind , And stop'd and started at each russling wind . Wing'd with like fear , his abdicated bands Disperse and wander into different lands ; Part did beneath the Peak's deep caverns lie , In silent glooms impervious to the sky ; Part on fair Avon's margin seek repose , Whose stream o'er Britain's midmost region flows , Where formidable Neptune never came , And seas and oceans are but known by fame : Some to dark woods and secret shades retreat , And some on mountains chuse their airy seat . There haply by the ruddy damsel seen , Or shepherd-boy , they featly foot the green , While from their steps a circling verdure springs ; But fly from towns , and dread the courts of kings . Mean-while sad Kenna , loth to quit the grove , Hung o'er the body of her breathless love , Try'd every art ( vain arts ! ) to change his doom , And vow'd ( vain vows ! ) to join him in the tomb . What could she do ; the Fates alike deny The dead to live , or fairy forms to die . An herb there grows ( the same old Odyss. l. 10. Homer tells Ulysses bore to rival Circe's spells ) Its root is ebon-black , but sends to light A stem that bends with flow'rets milky white , Moly the plant , which gods and fairies know , But secret kept from mortal men below . On his pale limbs its virtuous juice she shed , And murmur'd mystick numbers o'er the dead , When lo ! the little shape by magick power Grew less and less , contracted to a flower ; A flower , that first in this sweet garden smil'd , To virgins sacred , and the Snow-drop styl'd . The new-born plant with sweet regret she view'd , Warm'd with her sighs , and with her tears bedew'd , Its ripen'd seeds from bank to bank convey'd , And with her lover whiten'd half the shade . Thus won from death each spring she sees him grow , And glories in the vegetable snow , Which now increas'd through wide Britannia's plains , Its parent's warmth and spotless name retains ; First leader of the flowery race aspires , And foremost catches the sun's genial fires , 'Midst frosts and snows triumphant dares appear , Mingles the seasons , and leads on the year . Deserted now of all the pygmy race , Nor man nor fairy touch'd this guilty place . In heaps on heaps , for many a rolling age , It lay accurs'd , the mark of Neptune's rage ; 'Till great Nassau recloath'd the desart shade , Thence sacred to Britannia's monarchs made . 'Twas then the green-rob'd nymph , fair Kenna , came , ( Kenna that gave the neighb'ring town its name ) Proud when she saw th' ennobled garden shine With nymphs and heroes of her lover's line . She vow'd to grace the mansions once her own , And picture out in plants the fairy town . To far-fam'd Wise her flight unseen she sped , And with gay prospects fill'd the craftsman's head , Soft in his fancy drew a pleasing scheme , And plan'd that landskip in a morning dream . With the sweet view the sire of gardens fir'd , Attempts the labour by the nymph inspir'd , The walls and streets in rows of yew designs , And forms the town in all its ancient lines ; The corner trees he lifts more high in air , And girds the palace with a verdant square ; Nor knows , while round he views the rising scenes , He builds a city as he plants his greens . With a sad pleasure the aërial maid This image of her ancient realm survey'd ; How chang'd , how fallen from its primaeval pride ! Yet here each moon , the hour her lover dy'd , Each moon his solemn obsequies she pays , And leads the dance beneath pale Cynthia's rays ; Pleas'd in the shades to head her fairy train , And grace the groves where Albion's kinsmen reign .