July. 63 
She seemed designed for Flora’s hand, 
The sceptre of her power. 
This civil bickering and debate 
The goddess chanced to hear, 
And flew to save, ere yet too late, 
The pride of the parterre. 
“Yours is,” she said, “the nobler hue, 
And yours the statelier mien, 
And, till a third surpasses you, 
Let each be deemed a queen ! ” 
Thus soothed and reconciled, ea>ch seeks 
The fairest British fair ; 
The seat of empire is her cheeks, 
They reign united there. 
Cowper. 
THE LILY. 
There is a pale and modest flower, 
In garb of green array'd, 
That decks the rustic maiden’s bower, 
And blossoms in the glade ; 
Though other flowers around me bloom, 
In gaudy splendour drest, 
Filling the air with rich perfume, 
I love the lily best. 
