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Then to the skies' she lifts her pencilled browi, 

 Opes her fair lips, and breathes her virgin vows ; 

 Eyes the white zenith ; counts the suns, that roll 

 Their distant fires, and blaze around the pole ; 

 Or marks where Jove directs his glittering car, 

 O'er heaven's blue vault. Herself a brighter star. 

 There, as soft zephyrs sweep with pausing airs 

 Thy snowy neck, and pass thy shadowy hairs, 

 Sweet maid of night ! in Cynthia's sober beams 

 Glows thy warm cheek, thy polish'd bosom gleami. 

 In crowds around thee gaze th' admiring swains, 

 And guard in silence the enchanted plains ; 

 Drop the still tear, or breathe th' impassioned sigh, 

 And drink inebriate rapture from thine eye. 



THE CHOLCICUM AUTUMNALE AUTUMNAL 

 CROCUS. 



Dr. Paley, in his Natural Theology, speaking 

 of the Autumnal Crocus, says, " I have pitied 

 this poor plant a thousand times. Its blossom 

 rises out of the ground in the most forlorn con- 

 dition possible, without a sheath, a fence, a 

 calyx, or even a leaf to protect it ; and that 

 not in the spring, not to be visited by summer 

 suns, but under all the disadvantages of the 

 declining year. When we come, however, to 



F 



