286 VULGARITY. 



And we, a mild cerulean fair," 



A Blue-bottle replies, 

 Though less conspicuous, proudly wear 



The livery of the skies. 



" From Switzerland's romantic heights, 



Sprung our exotic race, 

 Who now this gentle soil delights, 



Who British gardens grace. 



Let Roses still in hackneyed strain, 



With Celia's Lilies blend, 

 To blue-eyed Marian's sighing swain, 



Our tints new flatteries lend. 



H While clowns, those tasteless sons of gain, 



Contemn the painted meads, 

 On profits bent, our charms disdain, 



And scoffing call us Weeds. 



* 

 Amid the biades that glittered round, 



One loftier than the rest, 

 With four-fold spiky honors crowned, 



The motley throng addressed. 



