|
page 84
ought to be disposed in planting. But to this subject, I
should attach little importance, if I could succeed in
banishing such trees as introduce deformity, and could
prevail upon the proprietor to confine himself, either to
those found in the native woods, or to such as accord with
them. This is, indeed, the main point; for, much as these
scenes have been injured by what has been taken from them -
buildings, trees, and woods, either through negligence,
necessity, avarice, or caprice - it is not the removals, but
the harsh additions that have been made, which are
the worst grievance - a standing and unavoidable annoyance.
Often have I felt this distinction, with mingled
satisfaction and regret; for, if no positive deformity or
discordance be substituted or super-induced, such is the
benignity of Nature, that, take away from her beauty after
beauty, and ornament after ornament, her appearance cannot
be marred - the scars, if any be left, will gradually
disappear before a healing spirit; and what remains will
still be soothing and pleasing. -
"Many hearts deplored
The fate of those old trees; and oft with pain
The traveller at this day will stop and gaze
On wrongs which nature scarcely seems to heed:
For sheltered places, bosoms, nooks, and bays,
And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed,
And the green silent pastures, yet remain."
There are few ancient woods left in this part of England
upon which such indiscriminate
|