THE BEES AND THE BLOSSOMS. 467 



Herbert of Cherbury, and then home ; and our next walk shall be, 

 if you please, about the Temple and Temple Bar, which the City 

 Goths are, I understand, determined to remove. 'Tempora mutan- 

 tur, et nos mutamur in illis.' " 



J. C. H. 



FABLE. 



THE BEES AND THE BLOSSOMS. 



BY MISS AGNES STRICKLAND. 



FROM THE ITALIAN OF DE ROSSI. 



" Why are you always closed to me, 

 Sweet Blossoms?" sang the wandering Bee ; 

 Who with his brethren all the day 

 Had hover'd round a flowery spray : 

 " Ah ! would you but your veils unfold, 

 And let your faithful friends behold 

 Your matchless charms, with what delight 

 We 'd strive your goodness to requite ! " 



The spray who heard these flattering things, 

 Though oft he 'd seen their wanton wings 

 Amidst his fragrant neighbours flutter, 

 Believed whate'er they chose to utter, 

 And softly bade his buds expand, 

 When in rush'd all the hungry band ; 

 A hundred bees, I 'm sure, or more 

 And rifled all his honey'd store ; 

 And then in search of farther plunder, 

 The petals rudely forced asunder ; 

 And seized on whatsoe'er they found, 

 Till the torn blossoms strew'd the ground ; 

 And then the faithless buzzing crew 

 Away to distant objects flew, 

 And left without remorse or care 

 The fallen flowers to wither there ; 

 Whilst the poor spray, despoil'd for ever, 

 Beheld again the traitors never. 



A monarch, when this tale was told, 

 Thus to his flattering court did say : 

 " The moral briefly I '11 unfold, 

 You are the bees, and I the spray." 



