65 THE TABLES OT FLORA, 



" The violet, that, those banks beneath, 

 " Hides from thy scorn its modest head, 



" Shall fill the air with fragrant breath, 

 " When thou art in thy dusty bed. 



** Even I, who boast no golden shade, 

 " Am of no shining tints possess'd, 



" When low thy lucid form is laid, 

 " Shall bloom on many a lovely breast. 



'** And he, whose kind and fostering care 

 ** To thee, to me, our beings gave, 



" Shall near his breast my flowrets wear, 

 *' And walk regardless o'er thy grave. 



" Deluded flower, the friendly screen 



" That hides thee from the noon-tide ray, 



" And mocks thy passion to be seen, 

 ** Prolongs thy transitoiy day. 



