30 THE FABLES OF FLORA. 



" In vain Cephisus sighs to save 



" The swain that loves his watry mead, 



" And weeps to see his reddening wave, 

 "And mourns for his perverted Reed: 



" In vain my violated groves 



" Must I with equal grief bewail, 



** While desolation sternly roves, 

 " And bids the sanguine hand assail. 



" God of the genial stream, behold 

 " My laurel shades of leaves so bare! 



" Those leaves no poet's brows enfold, 

 " Nor bind Apollo's golden hair. 



" Like thy fair offspring, misapplied, 

 " Far other purpose they supply; 



" The murderer's burning cheek to hide, 

 " And on his frownful temples die. 



