108 FLORA AND THALIA. 



But thou hast sprung a lovely thing, 4|^|||^ 

 Nor proved the genial breath of SprinUPPiP 



Sweet messenger of triumph due, 

 O'er death in all its wintry pride, 



He cannot quench one living hue. 



Which Heaven has destined to abide, 



Undimm'd 'midst Nature's dire decay. 



To blossom in eternal day. 



I'll fix thee here beside my heart, 



To calm its pulse, and check its play. 



To heal its wounds, and soothe its smart. 

 And chase the rankUng thought away ; 



For surely nought of earthly care, 



May mar its peace when thou art there. 



GILLESPIE. 



Oh, sooner shall the Rose of May 

 Mistake her own sweet nightingale. 



And to some newer minstrel's lay. 

 Open her bosom's glowing veil,* 



Than love shall ever doubt a tone, 



A breath of the beloved one. 



MOORE. 



* A frequent image among Oriental pcets. 



