FABLES OF FLOBA. 9 
‘ Mistaken youth,’ with sighs she said, 
1 From Nature and from me to stray! 
The bard, by splendid forms betrayed, 
No more shall frame the purer lay. 
‘ Luxuriant, like the flaunting Rose, 
And gay, the brilliant strains may be; 
But far, in beauty, far from those 
That flowed to Nature and to me.’ 
The poet felt, with fond surprise, 
The truths the sylvan critic told } 
And, ‘ Though this courtly Rose,’ he cries, 
‘ Is gay, is beauteous to behold; 
‘ Yet, lovely flower, I find in thee 
Wild sweetness, which no words express; 
And charms in thy simplicity, 
That dwell not in the pride of dress.’ 
De. Lanqhokne. 
