HARDWICKE PLANTATION - A poem in 1811

If e’er you should take a ride
Think not your labour lost to turn aside
But call at Darling’s: while your horse bait
Steal down the fields to Russell’s blest retreat.
Hardwicke Plantation there your eyes will feast
With beauty, and magnificence of taste;
Where art and elegance with nature’s vie,
Your every sense, by turns, to gratify.
Strangers must at the lodge admittance crave;
The gard’ner most politely can behave;
Communicative, sensible and free,
Nought he extorts, but few refuse a fee;
But if admittance you expect to find,
Take care to leave your fav’rite dog behind,
Note upon entering, not by any pompous gate,
To prepossess your mind with something great,
A wickett opens, where a wilderness
Invites you to explore its cool recess;
Shrubs breathe their odours, birds with vary’d song,
Serpentine paths attract you steps along,
Till ground walk breaks instant on your eyes,
And objects round as by enchantment rise;
The eye excursive roves, but never tires,
Where Sedge field elevates her turret spires
Now views the water from the gothic seats,
Then fix’d to where the vista terminates:
You then instinctive round the basin wind,
Down the long slope with eager steps inclin’d,
To where the bathing house, with easy seats,
A stranger to his wish accommodates;
Attended by a Genius of the place,
Its various beauties one by one to trace:
The stucco here can boast a master’s hand,
Tho too expos’d, the weather to withstand.
Rooms open, to undress, on either side;
The bath is from that spacious lake suppy’d;
A grove behind excludes the glaring light,
And screens a bather from each mortal’s sight.
Hence to a pond by easy slopes you wind,
The guide is vanish’d when you look behind;
To heighten the surprise a cascade roars,
As when huge billows break upon the shores;
The sound, scarce grown familiar to your ears,
Soon ceases, and your guide again appears:
Timely he comes, you want him to explain,
That buildings use, of architecture mean:
He turns the key, in this sequester’d cell
The cherub, contemplation, loves to dwell.
These painted windows give an antique air,
And keep out too much light’s offensive glare.
Climbing the stairs, your guide names ev’ry bust;
Sages and patriots, long consign’d to dust:
Who while they lived could wise instructions give,
Mankind directing how they think and live.
Those worthies past, venerable band,
In a small study from the stairs you land;
Books neatly bound attract a strangers view,
Who eager to examine one or two,
Hopes by the specimen to guess, at least,
The delicacy of the owner’s taste;
‘Tis all a deception from a painter’s skill-
Worse volumes far our modern studies fill!
Where controversy foams through ev’ry page,
With all the virulence of party rage;
Sceptical books, lewd plays, and luscious rhymes,
And novels light as those fantastic times.
While in this calm retreat you wish to stay,
Time, hastens and the guide conducts away,
To where the temple, on the rising hill,
Exhibits wonders of the artists’ skill,
That lively painting on the ceiling trace,
The dome, the column, chapiter, and base;
‘Tis sacred to Minerva and the arts,
Great in the whole design, and in the parts,
High on a trophy rais’d, behold her sit,
The patroness of arms, of arts, and wit.
From eight compartments see the dome decrease,
Four leading virtues each take up a space;
Four more are to the liberal arts, and wit.
By heaven ordain’d to civilise mankind.
All those by expressive symbols known,
Encircle round Minerva’s trophy’d throne,
Below, these breathing busts your notice claim,
Heroes and sages of immortal fame:
Great Caesar there, renown’d for arts and arms;
Demosthenes, whose eloquence still charms;
Plato, the wise, divine;
With Marcus Brutus; pious Antonine;
Trajon, to ev’ry princely art inclined;
And Titus, once the darling of mankind.
Now seeming past the garden’s utmost bound,
To rich close, the temple encircling round;
Again the wilderness you penetrate,
And cross a bridge no less for use than state,
Beneath, an artificial river glides,
Which in the grove at hand its sources hides,
By verdant slopes, its course directing straight,
Towards that mimick ruin on the height:
Neptune enrag’d his trident seems to shake,
And turns its stream meandering to the lake.
You leave it where the bank begins to bend,
And to the ruin up the hill ascend:
That tower, when at the height, may well command,
Extensive prospects, both by sea and land,
If at the base you pause, with walking spent,
And view objects round a wide extent,
The landscape pleases; right beneath your feet,
The river, bridge, and grove, in contract meet.
Over those wavering trees the country spreads –
Farmhouses, pastures, corn, and woods and meads.
That lake which on the right attracts your eye,
From its clear wave reflects another sky;
Capacious sheet! – Plantations intervene,
That its extent can ne’er at once be seen:
It opens now, now scarce view’d thro’ the trees,
Shines to the sun or ripples to the breeze.
Here water fowl may hatch and tend their young,
Birds on the spray, in concert, pour the song –
Grateful return at morn, or evening paid,
For nests untouched and ever shelt’ring shade.
But see that sumptuous edifice at hand,
Which seems the whole plantation to command;
To be conducted, o’er the lawn you haste.
The artitecture of exquisite taste’
It breathes an air of luxury and state;
To know its use you with impatience wait,
Skirting its wings towards the postern gate,
This it is the hall for banquets set apart;
Its grandeur strikes, enrich’d with cost and art;
Above two rival painters have display’d
Amazing powers, contrasting light and shade.
Jove’s succour, Thetis, here a suppliant seeks,
Achilles to revenge upon the Greeks
Juno, behind a cloud, observes the God,
Yield to her suit, with all-sufficient nod;
Attendant Nereids, which compose her train,
Wait there to reconduct her to the main.
Full in the midst, among ambrosial bowers,
Jove, at a feast, regales the heavenly powers.
By Juno charged with fav’’ring Thetis’ suit,
Both storm till Vulcan settles the dispute;
With limping pace’cross Heavens’ carpet trod,
He moves to laughter each attendant God;
Jove’s wrath abates, half smiling at the jest,
Yet scarce the termagant will lower her crest;
But with averted face the grace cup takes,
And at the thunderer her sceptre shakes.
How chang’d the Goddess, where in her conference seen
She comes a suppliant to the Cyprian Queen;
Quitting, by peacocks drawn, her stately car,
And feigning business from her purpose far,
Her artful tale the Queen of beauty moves,
To favour Juno reigning in her doves.
The Goddess with her Cestus was dismiss’d,
Whose force great love himself could not resist;
Soundly he slept unmindful of his state,
Hector’s disgrace, and Troy’s impending fate.
Farther to decorate this sumptuous hall,
Cupid and Psyche’s loves adorn the wall;
A genius both to Hymans alter leads;
Here Bacchus revels with his merry blades.
Busts of intriguing women make the room,
An air of festive luxury assume:
While these artists famous for their taste;
Check the lascivious glare, or wish unchaste.
There where Luna wooes to her embrace,
Sleeping Endymion weary with the chase.
At the spread couch loose ideas rise,
Turn, and on Virgil’s image fix thine eyes;
Who scorned, tho’ Dido’s love so high he wrought.
To raise a blush for one immodest thought,
More company impatient for a sight,
Force you to quit this mansion of delight;
Back to the wicket brought, e’er well you wist,
The guide withdraws, and leaves you there dismiss’d.
Well pleased to DARLING’S you return and find,
Refreshment of the best and treatment kind.
FINIS