6o 
THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
In yellow glory let the crocus shine, 
Narcissus here his love-sick head recline ; 
Here hyacinths in purple sweetness rise, 
And tulips tinged with beauty's fairest dyes. 
TO A MIRROR. 
FROM GARCILASO DE LA VEGA. 
Since still my passion-pleading strains 
Have failed her heart to move, 
Show, mirror, to that lovely maid, 
The charms that make me love. 
Reflect on her the thrilling beam 
Of magic from her eye ; 
So, like Narcissus, she shall gaze, 
And, self-enamoured, die. 
DEATH OF NARCISSUS. 
ADDISON. 
Then on th’ unwholesome earth he gasping lies, 
Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes. 
To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires, 
And in the Stygian waves itself admires. 
For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn, 
Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn : 
And now the sister nymphs prepare his urn ; 
When, looking for his corpse, they only found 
A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crowned. 
