THE FABLES OF FLORA. 67 



Nor lifeless there the lonely scene; 



The little labourer of the hive. 

 From flower to flower, from green to green. 



Murmurs, and makes the wild alive. 



See, on that flowrets velvet breast. 

 How close the busy vagrant lies! 



His thin-wrought plume, his downy breast, 

 Th' ambrosial gold that swells his thighsj 



Regardless, whilst we wander near. 

 Thrifty of time, his task he plies; 



Or sees he no intruder near? 

 And rest in sleep his weary eyes? 



tally. The genus of the Orchis, or Satyrion, she seems professed- 

 ly to have made use of for her paintings, and on the different 

 species has drawn the perfect forms of different insects, such as 

 Bees, Flies, Butterflies, &c. 



