Says the poet of our day, adjuring 
his mistress to believe in his truth 
and fidelity; and so rfiight have 
sung, and very likely did sing, the 
Israelites of old, on the flowery 
banks of the Jordan, or the swar¬ 
thy son of Egypt, who, kneeling 
by the mysterious Nile, might have 
plucked the blossoms of the bright 
nymphea, and putting it to his lips 
and turning to the earthly idol of 
his adoration, have said something 
to this effect:— 
“ The lotus flower, whose leaves 1 now 
Eiss silently, 
Far more than words can tell thee how 
I worship thee.” 
