FLORA AND THALIA. 131 



By nature urged, by instinct led, 

 The bosom of a flower he sought, 



Where streams mourned round a mossy bed, 

 And Violets all the bank enwrought. 



Of kindred race, but brighter dyes, 

 On that fair bank a Pansy grew, 



That borrowed from indulgent skies, 

 A violet shade, a purple hue. 



The tints that streamed with glossy gold, 

 The violet shade, the purple hue. 



The stranger wondered to behold ; 

 And to its beauteous bosom flew. 



In vain he seeks some virtues there, 

 No soul-sustaining charms abound, 



No honeyed sweetness to repair 

 The languid waste of life is found. 



An aged bee, whose labours led 



To these fair springs and meads of gold, 



His feeble wing, his drooping head 

 Beheld, and pitied to behold. 



" Fly, fond adventurer ! fly the art 



That courts thine eye with fond attire ; 



Who smiles to win the heedless heart, 

 W ill smile to see that heart expire. 



