APPENDICES. 357 
Inhaled at every pore, the dewy flood 
Spreads the young leaf, and wakes the sleeping bud. 
* * * * * * * 
Yes, ight-winged labourers! still unwearied range 
From flower to flower, your only love of change! 
Sull be your envied lot, communion rare, 
‘To wreathe contentment round the brow of care! 
No nice distinctions, or of rich or great, 
Shade the clear sunshine of your peaceful state; 
Nor Avarice there unfolds her dragon wing, 
Nor racked Ambition feels the scorpion sting; 
Your tempered wants an easy wealth dispense, 
The public store your only affluence : 
For all alike the busy fervour glows, 
Alike ye labour, and alike repose ;* 
Free as the air, yet in strict order joined, 
Unnumbered bodies with a single mind. 
One royal head, with ever-watchful eye, 
Reins and directs your restless industry, 
Builds on your love her firm-cemented throne, 
And with her people’s safety seals her own.” 
What again can be happier, and at the same time more 
scientifically true, than the fullowing lines on the system by 
which bees rifle the flowers, but bestow upon them in return 
the means to a fresh development and beauty ?— 
“And plains sad Chloris how these spoilers steal 
From her ripe crests the vivifying meal, 
Pare the thin films that shield her anthered reign, 
And all her nectared cells insatiate drain? 
No! kind intruders; all reserved for you 
She pours through honeyed horn her luscious dew, 
While, grateful for the rich repast, ye shed 
Fresh showers prolific round her genial bed.” 
Then we have a description of a colony of bees just on 
the point of starting for a swarm :— 
* “ Omnibus una quies operum, labor omnibus unus.’’— Virgil, G. iv. 184. 
