Floral Poetry. 
183 
Swift from the valley the warrior fled, 
Swifter the bolt of the cross-bow sped ; 
And the weight that pressed on the fleet-foot horse, 
Was the living man, and the woman’s corse. 
That morning the Rose was bright of hue : 
That morning the maiden was fair to view : 
But the evening sun its beauty shed 
On the withered leaves, and the maiden dead. 
John Sterling. 
THOU VIRGIN ROSE. 
The married are compared by the poet to the young Rose, which the 
lover places in the bosom of his mistress, first stripped of thorns. 
mHOU virgin Rose ! whose opening leaves so fair, 
^ The dawn has nourished with her balmy dews, 
While softest whispers of the morning air 
Called forth the blushes of thy vermeil hues ; 
That cautious hand, which ctopt thy youthful pride, 
Transplants thy honours, where, from hurt secure, 
Stript of each thorn offensive to thy side, 
Thy nobler part alone shall bloom mature. 
Thus thou, a flower, exempt from change of skies, • 
By storms and torrents unassailed shall rise, 
And scorn the Winter colds, and Summer heats; 
A guard more faithful then thy growth shall tend, 
By whom thou may’st in tranquil union blend 
Eternal beauties with eternal sweets. 
From Metastasio. 
