FABLES OF FLORA. 33 
4 Go, splendid sycophant! no more 
Display thy soft, seductive arts! 
The flattering clime of courts explore, 
Nor spoil the convent’s simple hearts. 
4 To me their praise more justly due, 
Of longer bloom, and happier grace! 
Whom changing months unaltered view, 
And find them in my fond embrace.’ 
‘ How well,’ the modest flower replied, 
4 Can Envy’s tutored eye elude 
The obvious bonds that still divide 
Foul flattery from fair gratitude. 
4 My duteous praise each hour I pay 
For few the hours that I must live; 
And give to him my little day, 
Whose grace another day may give. 
4 When low this golden form shall fall, 
And spread with dust its parent plain, 
That dust shall hear liis genial call, 
And rise — to glory rise — again. 
4 To thee, my gracious Power, to thee, 
My love, my heart, my life are due! 
Thy goodness gave that life to be; 
Thy goodness shall that life renew. 
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