ORANGE-BLOSSOM. 
127 
The fruit were golden apples glistering bright, 
That goodly was their glory to behold ; 
On earth no better grew, nor living wight 
E’er better saw, but they from hence* were sold, 
For those which Hercules, with conquest bold, 
Got from great Atlas’ daughters, hence began, 
And planted there, did bring forth fruit of gold, 
And those with which th’ Euboean young man wan 
[won] 
Swift Atalanta, when, through craft, he her outran. 
Here also sprang that goodly golden fruit 
With which Acontius got his lover true. 
Whom he had long time sought with fruitless suit; 
Here eke that famous golden apple grew, 
The which among the gods false Ate threw. 
For which the Idsean ladies disagreed, 
Till partial Paris deemed it Venus’ due, 
And had [of her] fair Helen for his meed, 
That many noble Greeks and Trojans made to bleed. 
\ 
TO THE HUMMING BIRD. 
CHARLOTTE SMITH. 
There, lovely bee-bird ! mayst thou rove 
Through spicy vale and citron grove. 
And woo and win thy fluttering love 
With plume so bright; 
* The garden of Proserpina. 
