FABLES OF FIOEA, 115 
The exile plant from all its race 
Stood desolate, like one accursed; 
Yet, noblest in unjust disgrace, 
At length to sudden bloom it burst. 
O’er every branch a hundred flowers 
Their crimson glory gayly threw; 
And odors fell from it in showers, 
Whene’er the vernal breezes blew. 
I heard the maiden then exclaim, 
‘ Most gorgeous of the flowers of earth, 
Like love, thou waitest want and shame 
To call thy beauties into birth! 
‘ But then, in dazzling bloom arrayed, 
Thy form the dreariest spot illumes, 
And all the close and sultry shade 
Grows balmy with thy sweet perfumes. 
1 O, teach me, wise and noble flower, 
To train my simple heart to meet 
Misfortune’s dark and friendless hour, 
With smiles like thine, serene and sweet!’ 
