116 F L 0 E AL ^ E E E M 0 N IE S. 
The tufted rush that bears a silken crown. 
The floating feathers of the thistle’s down, 
In tender hues of rainbow lustre dyed. 
The airy texture of her robe supplied; 
And wild convolvuli, yet half unblown. 
Formed, with their wreathing buds, her simple zone; 
Some wandering tresses of her radiant hair 
Luxuriant floated on the enamored air; 
The rest were by the scandix points confined. 
And graced, a shining knot, her head behind— 
While, as a sceptre of supreme command. 
She waved the enthoxanthum in her hand.” 
Charlotte Smith. 
We wish that our space permitted us to quote 
the description of the attendants of the beautiful 
Goddess of Flowers from the same poem, and 
the exquisite forms of perfumed loveliness 
which the earth and the waters put forth to 
welcome her approach, but the poet of Lusitania 
is waiting to tell us how,— 
“ Zephyr and Flora emulous conspire 
To breathe their graces o’er the field’s attire; 
The one gives healthful freshness, one the hue. 
Fairer than e’er creative pencil drew. 
Pale as the lovesick hopeless maid they dye 
The modest violet; from the curious eye 
The modest violet turns her gentle head. 
And by the thorn weeps o’er her lowly bed; 
