T J5 M1»T ATI OJN. 
2 
“ Watered and sheltered from thy birth, 
Beneath the Acacia bough, 
Placed on this chosen spot of earth, 
What flower so blessed as thou ?” 
Thus a bright Lupin, in the grove, 
Kind as a summer-shower, 
To sooth, in gentle accents strove, 
A melancholy flower. 
“Ah, wo is me !” with mournful voice, 
I heard the plaint reply, 
“ Ne’er shall Convolvulus rejoice, 
Here doomed to pine and die. 
“ The sun was scarcely set last night, 
My bells began to close, 
When, to my half-discerning sight, 
A lovely vision rose. 
“ How shall my artless speech describe 
The glories of its form ? 
It seemed of that aerial tribe, 
Which here at noontide swarm. 
