FABLES OF FLOWERS. 
275 
Exulting Nature cried, “ I made thee fair, 
Twas I that nurs’d thy tender buds with dew ; 
I gave thee fragrance to perfume the air. 
And stole from beauty’s cheek her blushing- 
hue,” 
“ Cease, goddess, cease,” indignant Art re¬ 
plied, 
And ere you triumph, know that but for me, 
This beauteous object of our mutual pride 
Had been no other than a vulgar tree. 
“ I snatch’d her from her tardy mother’s arms 
Where sunbeams scorch, and piercing tem¬ 
pests blow; 
On my warm bosom nurs’d her infant charms. 
Prun’d the wild shoot, and train’d the strag¬ 
gling bough. 
“ I watch’d her tender buds, and from her 
shade 
Drew each intruding weed with anxious care. 
Nor let the curling blight her leaves invade, 
Nor worm nor noxious insect harbour there. 
“ At length the beauty’s loveliest bloom ap¬ 
pears, 
And Art and Fame shall win the promis’d 
boon, 
