TUBEROSE. 



(Continued.) 



Why, then, we rack the value : then, we find 

 The virtue that possession would not show us 



Whiles it was ours Shaks. 



What our contempts do often hurl from us, 



We wish it ours again same. 



Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, 

 Hast thou more of pain or pleasure ? 

 Endless torments dwell about thee, 

 Yet who would live, and live without thee ? 



Addison'g Rosamond. 



By all the token flowers that tell 

 What words can never tell so well. 



^ Every thing seems drear without thee !, . . 



Byron. 

 . Moore. 



TULIP, Red. 

 Tulipa. 



A declaration of love. 



Who could refrain, that had a heart to love, 

 And courage to make his love known ? . . 



Shaks. 



No wonder that my heart was moved, 

 'Twere marvel, if I had not loved. 



. L. E. L. 



What should I say, 



Or how begin the strain ? 



These passions how contain, 



That in my throbbing breast tumultuous spring ? 



JEschylus. The Choephoree. 



Thou thou hast metamorphos'd me ; 

 Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, 

 War with good counsel, set the world at nought, 

 Made wit with musing, weak, heart-sick with thought. 



Shaks. 



In mine, survey 

 A heart that 's yours alone ; 

 Long has it own'd Elvira's sway, 

 Though long unnotic'd and unknown. . Carlwright. 



TULIP, Yellow. Hopeless love. What youth so cold could view unmov'd 



The maid that ev'ry beauty shar'd ? 

 Her Armine saw ; he saw ; he lov'd ; 

 He lov'd alas ! and he despaired. . . . Cartwright. 



I know thou doom'st me to despair, 



Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me ; 



But, ah, Eliza, hear my prayer, 



For pity's sake forgive me ! Burns. 



