210 
THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 
“ Oh, hear a timid suppliant’s prayer, 
Nymph of the blushing hours, 
Incline, and rescue from despair, 
The most forlorn of Flowers ! \ 
“ Fair am I formed, and sweet ’tis true, 
Thy favourite blue-eyed maid ; 
Each spring am fed with pearly dew, 
But cloistered in the shade. 
4< Were I exalted on my stem, 
By solar beams inspired ; 
What Pink, what Rose, what fragrant gem, 
Like me would be admired ?” 
“ How,” cried, with royal pride, the Rose, 
(Betrayed by her petition, 
Or else what mortal could suppose 
She liked not her condition ?) 
iC s ^all such mean reptiles dare complain, 
Sweet ruler of the year ! 
While I, thy vice-queen, crowned in vain. 
Here shed the silent teac ? 
