THE FABLES OF FLORA. 57 



*' Those flowers he surely meant to strew 

 " On lost affection's lowly cell; 



" Though there, as fond remembrance grew, 

 " Forgotten, from his hand they fell. 



** Has not for thee the fragrant thorn 

 "Been taught her first rose to resign? 



" With vain but pious fondness borne 

 " To deck thy Nancy's honoured shrine! 



" Tis Nature pleading in the breast, 

 " Fair memory of her works to find ; 



** And when to fate she yields the rest, 

 ** She claims the monumental mind. 



« Why, else, the overgrow n paths of time 

 " Would thus the lettered sage explore, 



" With pain these crumbling ruins climb, 

 " And on the doubtful sculpture pore? 



