212 THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 



Goddess ! in radiant glories dressed, 



Let me henceforth appear, 

 By summer's brightest beams caressed, 



Nor wait the closing year." 



" Ungrateful tribe !" with angry pause, 

 The indignant Goddess cries, 



" Not in the season's wholesome laws, 

 Your cause of grievance lies. 



f< Spoiled by prosperity, ye pine, 



Like many a pampered fair ; 

 But wo to all, should I incline, 



And grant to each her prayer. 



(f So nicely are your hours arranged, 



To every season linked, 

 That Nature's laws one moment changed, 



Your race would be extinct." 



She spoke ; then bade the blast arise, 



Her message to convey ; 

 Boreas, swift rushing through the skies, 



Swept all their sighs away. 



