DROPS FROM FLORA’S CUP. 63 
And now the sister-nymphs prepare his nm; 
When, looking for his corpse, they only found 
A rising stalk with yellow blossoms crowned. 
‘ He fell in love with the fantastic shade, 
And o’er the fair resemblance hung unmoved, 
Nor knew, fond youth, it was himself he loved. ’ 
EDEN. 
MILTON. 
Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice art 
In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon 
Poured profuse on hill, and dale, and plain. 
Both where the morning sun first warmly smote 
The open field, and where the unpierced shade 
Imbrowned the noontide bowers: Thus was the 
place, 
A happy rural seat of various view; 
Groves, whose rich trees wept odorous gum and 
balm, 
Others whose fruits, burnished with golden rind, 
Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true, 
If true, here only, and of delicious taste: 
Betwixt them, lawns, or level downs, and flocks 
Grazing the tender herb, where interposed, 
Or palmy hillock; or the flowing lap 
Of some irriguous valley spread her store, 
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose. 
