94 the language of flowers 
Disclosed the nymyh of azure glance— 
The nymph who shakes the martial lance— 
Then, then, in strange eventful hour. 
The earth produced an infant flower. 
Which sprung with blushing tinctures 
dress’d. 
And wanton’d o’er its parent breast. 
The gods beheld this brilliant birth. 
And hail’d the Rose, the boon of earth ! 
With nectar drops, a ruby tide. 
The sweetly orient buds they dyed. 
And bade them bloom, the flowers divine 
Of Him who sheds the teeming vine ; 
And bade them on the spangled thorn 
Expand their bosoms to the morn. 
