FABLES OF FLORA. 
109 
FABLE XXXI. 
The Egyptian Lily. 
In glory of her bloom arrayed, 
A gorgeous Lily of the Nile 
Her own magnificence surveyed, 
With beauty’s vain and conscious smile. 
When bending with a royal grace 
Before the breeze which onward swept 
She saw that o’er her costly vase 
The dewy moss had greenly crept. 
With scorn her snowy brow she turned 
From where the cool intruder clung, 
And thus its kind embraces spurned, 
And thus her haughty praises sung: 
I, born of that imperial line 
Which Egypt cherished, mourn the hour 
When battle-car and priestly shrine 
Bore garlands of the holy flower. 
< No pageants here my blossoms grace, 
Borne proudly, as in days of old— 
Alas, for my dishonored raee! 
A garden captive, basely sold! 
