THE FABLES OF FLORA. 43 



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 dies. 

 On that fair bank a Pansy grew. 



That borrowed from indulgent skies 

 A velvet shade and purple hue. 



The tints that streamed with glossy gold. 

 The velvet shade, the purple hue. 



The stranger wondered to behold. 

 And to its beauteous bosom flew. 



Not fonder haste the lover speeds, 

 At evening's fall, his fair to meet. 



When o'er the hardly-bending meads 

 He springs on more than mortal feet. 



