Th' unfolding leaf, the soft bud newly burst, 



A second Flora vieing with the first. 



11 These!" she exclaim'd, — " these flowers should be mine. 



" Taken, O Nature, from thy holy shrine: 



" I, only I, should such rich tints bestow, 



u I, only I, should give that kindling glow. 



" Hold!" said the Sister- Goddess, — " the desire 

 " Thus to paint the charms which we inspire, 

 " Demands our praise — 'tis incense at our shrine, 

 " And Art but proves our Empire more divine. 

 " Art's noblest effort but makes known our Fame ; 

 u Different our realms, our Worship is the same, 

 " To both does heavn-bum Genius bend the knee!" 

 Then Flora smil'd, and all was Harmony. 



Pratt. 



