76 
POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
capt Olympus, rising with its rounded shoulder, like 
another world, on the uttermost rim of the horizon. 
At the foot of this immense world of untrodden moun¬ 
tains, opened out a wide, immeasurable forest, stretch¬ 
ing far away, league upon league, with its unexplored 
ocean of trees, which were bounded somewhere by 
another range of unknown mountains, that again 
overlooked a vast, silent, and unpeopled world. On 
the edge of this pathless desert of trees, and nearest 
the foot of Olympus, sat the Queen of Beauty and of 
Love ; with her golden tresses unbound, and her 
matchless countenance buried within the palms of her 
milk-white hands, and sobbing as if her fond, immortal 
heart would break. Beside her was laid the dead body 
of Adonis, his face half-hidden beneath the floating fall 
of her hair, as she bent over him and wept. Beyond 
them lay the stiffened bulk of the grim and grisly boar, 
his hideous jaws flecked with blood and foam, and his 
terrible tusks glittering like the heads of pointed spears, 
as they stood out, sharp and white, in the unclouded 
sunset. Not an immortal comforter was by: for the 
far-seeing eye of Jove was fixed listlessly upon the 
golden nectar-cup, as it passed from hand to hand, 
along the rounded circle of the gods, while they were 
