THE TOETKY OF FIOWEKS. 
: G3 
Or, on the dingle’s shadowy steep, 
The gaudy furze beneath, 
Thy modest beauties sweetly peep, 
Thy chaster odours breathe. 
From luxury we turn aside, 
From wealth and ostentatious pride 
With many an emblematic thorn, 
Thy humbler mien well pleased to meet; 
Like competence in blest retreat, 
Thy smiles the spring adorn. 
What though thou boast no splendid hue 
Of Flora’s prouder race ? 
I’o me more fair art thou to view, 
In all thy simple grace : 
I hine innocence and beauty meek, 
More like my Celestina’s cheek, 
Where all the modest virtues play ; 
expression beaming from her eye, 
In cherub smiles of chastity, 
With mild and temper’d ray. 
Vet treasures lurk within thy lips 
fo glad the spoiler bee, 
Who not with idle errand sips, 
Or wanton vagrancy. 
Ah ! blest is he who temperance tries. 
Simplicity above disguise. 
