84 FABLES OF FLORA. 
‘ In light’s etherial beauty dressed, 
Behold,’ he cried, 1 the favored flower, 
Which Flora’s high commands invest 
With ensigns of immortal power! 
‘ Where prostrate vales, and blushing meads, 
And bending mountains own his sway, 
While Persia’s lord his empire leads, 
And bids the trembling world obey; 
‘ While blood bedews the straining bow, 
And conquest rends the scattered air 
’T is mine to bind the victor’s brow, 
And reign in envied glory there. 
‘ Then lowly bow, ye British flowers! 
Confess your monarch’s mighty sway, 
And own the only glory yours, 
When fear flies trembling to obey.’ 
He said, and sudden o’er the plain, 
From flower to flower a murmur ran, 
With modest air and milder strain, 
When thus the Meadow’s Queen began. 
‘ If vain of birth, of glory vain, 
Or fond to bear a regal name, 
The pride of folly brings disdain, 
And bids me urge a tyrant’s claim; 
