50 FLORA HISTORICA. 



And while he pluck'd the Primrose in its pride, 

 He pondered o'er its bloom 'tween joy and pain ; 



And a rude sonnet in its praise he tried, 



"Where nature's simple way the aid of art supplied. 



I did the same in April time, 

 And spoilt the Daisy's earliest prime ; 

 Kobb'd each Primrose-root I met, 

 And ofttimes got the root to set ; 

 And joyful home each nosegay bore, 

 And felt — as I shall feel no more. 



Village Minstrel. 



To crop the Primrose of the plains ! 

 Does she not sweets in each fair valley find, 

 Lost to the sons of pow'r, unknown to half mankind ! 



Shenstone. 



Sur le gazon la tendre Primevere 



S'ouvre et jaunit, des le premier beau jour. 



And lanes in which the Primrose ere her time 



Peeps through the moss that clothes the hawthorn root, 



Deceive no student. "Wisdom there and truth, 



Not shy, as in the world, and to be won 



By slow solicitation, sei ze at once 



The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. 



Cowpek. 



As some wayfaring man passing a wood 



Goes jogging on, and in his minde nought hath, 



But how the Primrose finely strow the path. 



W. Browne. 



There are some flowers that contribute to dispose 

 us to a pensive or melancholy strain wherever we 

 meet with them ; whilst others seem equally to 

 exhilarate the spirits and enliven the ideas. The 

 colour and character of the flower may, in some 

 degree, assist to make this impression ; but it must 



