THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 
211 
« Though bright my tints, perfumed my breath. 
Though cherished by the fair, 
Though when I fade, even after death, 
My virtues honored are : 
(( Yet in my season, numerous powers 
Approach too near the throne ; 
The embroidered garden, rich with flowers, 
Scarce will my empire own. 
« If blushing to thy court I came, 
When autumn rules the day, 
Then should I sovereign homage claim, 
And hold despotic sway.” 
(( Despotic sway, indeed !” replied 
The image of the sun ; 
(C In June rejoice to curb thy pride,— 
My reign is not begun. 
(i Though native of a distant clime, 
No British bloom I Doast; 
Yet know, proud plant ! my form sublime, 
Eclipses all thine host. 
