LIME-TREES.
At Niestad,[[13]] in the duchy of Wurtemburg, stood a lime, which was for many ages so remarkable that the city frequently took its denomination from it, being often called Neustadt an der grossen Linden, or Niestad near the Great Lime. Scarce any person passed near Niestad without visiting this tree; and many princes and great men did honor to it by building obelisks, columns, and monuments of various kinds around it, engraved with their arms and names, to which the dates were added, and often some device. Mr. Evelin, who procured copies of several of these monumental inscriptions, tells us there were two hundred of them. The columns on which they were fixed served also to bear up the vast limbs of the tree, which began through age to become unwieldy. Thus this mighty plant stood many years in great state, the ornament of the town, the admiration of the country, and supported, as it were, by the princes of the empire. At length it felt the effects of war. Niestad was surrounded by an enemy, and the limbs of this venerable tree were mangled in wantonness by the besieging troops. Whether it still exists, I know not; but long after these injuries it stood a noble ruin, discovering, by the foundations of the several monuments, which formerly propped its spreading boughs, how far its limits had once extended.
* * * I shall next celebrate the Lime of Cleves. This, also, was a tree of great magnificence. It grew in an open plain, just at the entrance of the city, and was thought an object worthy to exercise the taste of the magistracy. The burgomaster of his day had it surveyed with great accuracy, and trimmed into eight broad, pyramidal faces. Each corner was supported by a handsome stone pillar; and in the middle of the tree, among the branches, was cut a noble room, which the vast space contained within easily suffered, without injuring the regularity of any of the eight faces. To crown all, the top was curiously clipped into some kind of head, and adorned artificially, but in what manner, whether with the head of a lion, or a stag, a weather-cock, or a sun-dial, we are not told. It was something, however, in the highest style of Dutch taste. This tree was long the admiration and envy of all the states of Holland.
William Gilpin, 1724–1807.
THE BIRCH-TREE.
Rippling through thy branches goes the sunshine,
Among thy leaves that palpitate forever;
Ovid in thee a pining Nymph had prisoned,
The soul once of some tremulous, inland river,
Quivering to tell her woe, but, ah! dumb, dumb forever!