46 
THE MORAL OF FLOWERS. 
“ And yet, ’mid all this stately show 
Inly I wept *; for never yet was pride 
To peace and quiet happiness allied. 
Ask him whose jewell’d brow 
Aches ’neath the weight of empire — he can tell 
How in that ‘ golden round’ few pleasures dwell. 
“ But to my tale : — Soon I became 
The storm’s rude jest; while many a meaner flower, 
Safe in its lowliness, still deck’d the bower, 
A witness of my shame. 
Listen, ye mighty ones; your very state 
E’en thus invites the storm which seals your fate. 
“ Ah ! then, so live your little day, 
‘ That Tie who wears the crown immortally,’ 
When life, with all its pomp and pageantry, 
Melts like a dream away. 
May give ye, in his own bright world above, 
Kingdoms and crowns which cannot fade or move ! ” 
* “ In the bottom of each of these bels there is placed sixe drops of 
most cleere shining sweetc water, in taste like sugar, resembling in shewe 
faire orient pearles ; the which drops if you take away, there doe imme¬ 
diately appeere the like, as well in bignes as also in sweetness ; notwith¬ 
standing, if they be suffered to stande still in the flower, according to his 
own nature, they will never fall away; no, if you strike the plant until it 
be broken.” 
