FLORA AND THALIA. 89 



THE ORCHIS. 



See, Delia, see this image bright; 



Why starts my fair one at the sight? 



It mounts not on obtrusive wing, 



Nor threats thy breast with angry sting ; 



Admire, as close the insect lies. 



Its thin-wrought plume and honey 'd thighs ; 



Whilst on this flow'ret's velvet breast 



It seems as though 'twere luU'd to rest, 



Nor might its fairy wings unfold, 



Enchain'd in aromatic gold. 



Think not to set the captive free — 



'Tis but the picture of a bee. 



Yet wonder not that Nature's power 

 Should paint an insect in a flower. 

 And stoop to means that bear in part 

 Itesemblance to imperfect art. 

 Nature, who could that form inspire 

 With strength and sv/iftness, life and fire. 

 And bid it search each spicy vale. 

 Where flowers their fragrant souls exhale ; 

 And labouring for the parent hive. 

 With murmurs make the wild alive. 

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