74 THE FABLES OF FLORA. 



" Of perfect light immortal — Vainly boast 



" That golden Broom its sunny robe of flowers: 



"Fair are the sunny flowers; but, fading soon 



" And fruitless, yield the forester's regard 



" To the well-loaded Wilding — Shepherd, there 



" Behold the fate of song, and lightly deem 



** Of all but moral beauty." 



Not in vain"— 



I hear my Hamilton reply, 



(The torch of fancy in his eye) 



"'Tis not in vain," I hear him say, 



" That nature paints her works so gay; 



*' For, friMtless though that fairy broom, 



" Yet still we love her lavish bloom. 



" Cheered with that bloom, yon desart wild 



" Its native horrors lost, and smiled. 



'* And oft we mark her golden ray 



*-' Along the dark wood scatter day. 



