86 POETRY OF THE ROSE. 



CUPID AND THE DIAL, 



One day, young frolic Cupid tried 

 To scatter roses o'er the hours, 



And on the dial's face to hide 



The course of time with many flowers. 



By chance, his rosy wreaths had wound 

 Upon the hands, and forced them on ; 



And when he look'd again, he found 



The hours had pass'd, the time was done. 



" Alas !" said Love, and dropp'd his flowers, 

 " I've lost my time in idle play ; 



The sweeter I would make the hours, 

 The quicker they are pass'd away." 



ANACREON TO THE ROSE. 



While we invoke the wreathed spring, 

 Resplendent Rose ! to thee we'll sing, 

 Resplendent Rose ! the flower of flowers, 

 Whose breath perfumes Olympus' bowers ; 

 Whose virgin blush, of chasten'd dye, 

 Enchants so much our mortal eye : 

 Oft has the poet's magic tongue 

 The Rose's fair luxuriance sung ; 

 And long the Muses, heavenly maids, 

 Have rear'd it in their tuneful shades. 

 When, at the early glance of morn, 

 It sleeps upon the glittering thorn, 

 'Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence, 

 To cull the timid floweret thence, 



