OR, LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 151 
But gentle and free from a tincture of pride, 
A sweet country cousin was call’d by the bride, 
Who long in a valley had sheltered unknown, 
Or was traced to the shade by her sweetness alone; 
She timid appeared in the meekest array, 
Like pearls of clear dew on an evergreen spray. 
Now moved the procession from dressing-room 
bowers, 
A brilliant display of illustrious flowers: 
Young Heart’s-ease in purple and gold lan be¬ 
fore, 
To welcome them in at the great temple door, 
Where old Bishop Monk’s-hood had taken his 
stand, 
To weave and to sanction the conjugal band: 
The trumpeter Suckling, with musical air, 
Preceeded as herald, and then the young pair: 
With little Miss Lily, as bridesmaid, behind, 
Alone ; her fair head on her bosom reclin’d. 
The old Duke of Peony, richly arrayed 
In coquelicot,* headed the long cavalcade, 
Duchess Dowager Rose leading up at his side, 
With her daughters, some blooming, some fair as 
the bride; 
My lady Carnation, excessively dashing, 
Rouged highly, and new in the Rotterdam fashion, 
* Coquelicot —the red poppy, here used to describe 
the colour of the dress. 
