( 75 ) THE MULBERRY-TREE.
TOEHOLD this fair gob^t, 'twas carv'd from the tiee, JLJ Which, oh ! my Tweet Shakefpeare, was planted
by thee ;
As a relick I kifs it, and bow at thy fhrine, What comes from thy hand muft be ever divine. All fhall yield to the mulberry tree, Bend to thee, bleft mulberry ! Matchlefs was he that planted thee, And thou, like him, immortal fhali be.
Ye trees of the foreft, fo rampant and high,
Who fpread round your branches, whofe heads fweep
the fky,
Ye curious exotics, whom tafte has brought here, To root out the natives at prices fo dear :
All fhall yield, &c.
The oak is held loyal, is Britain's great boaft, Preferv'd once our king, and will always our coafl, Of the oak we make fhips there are thoufands that
fight,
But one, only one, like our Shakefpeare can write.
All ihall yield, &c.
Let Venus delight in her gay myrtle bowers, Pomona in fruit-trees, and Flora in flowers ; The garden of Shakefpeare all fancies will luit, With the fweeteft of novvers, and the faireft of fruit.
All ihall yield, &c.
With learning and knowledge the well-letter'd birch Supplies law and phyfic, and grace for the church ; hut law and the gofpel in Shakefpeare we find He gives the beft phyirc for body and mind.
. All Ihall yield, &c. H 2 The
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