106 POETRY OF THE ROSE. 



O cease with delight to survey the proud Rose, 

 Whose soft leaves must too soon feel decay ; 



For, ah ! the dark wind, as it churlishly blows, 



At our feet all its honors shall lay. Ode XVI. 



The youthful season's wonted bloom 



Renews the beauty of each bower, 

 And to the sweet-song'd bird is come, 



Glad welcome from its darling flower. Ode YIII. 



The love-struck nightingale's delightful strain. 



The lark's resounding note, are heard again ; 



Again the Rose, to hail Spring's festive day. 



From the cold house of sorrow hastes away. Ode XIII. 



AN IDEAL FLOWER. 



So when the nightingale, in eastern bowers. 

 On quivering pinions woos the queen of flowers, 

 Inhales her fragrance as he hangs in air. 

 And melts with melody the blushing fair ; 

 Half Rose, half bird, a beauteous monster springs, 

 Waves his thin leaves and claps his glossy wings : 

 Long horrent thorns his mossy legs surround. 

 And tendril talons root him to the ground ; 

 Green films of rind his wrinkled neck o'erspread. 

 And crimson petals crest his curled head ; 

 Soft-warbling beaks in each bright blossom move. 

 And vocal rose-buds fill th' enchanted grove. 

 Admiring Evening stays her beamy star 

 And still Night listens from his ebon car ; 

 While on white wings descending houris throng, 

 And drink the floods of odor and of song. 



Dr. Darwin. 



