THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 211 
Though bright my tints, perfumed my breath, 
Though cherished by the fair, 
Though when I fade, even after death, 
My virtues honored are : 
Yet in my season, numerous powers 
Approach too near the throne ; 
The embroidered garden, rich with flowers. 
Scarce will my empire own. 
If blushing to thy court I came. 
When autumn rules the day. 
Then should I sovereign homage claim. 
And hold despotic sway.” 
Despotic sway, indeed !” replied 
The image of the sun ; 
In June rejoice to curb thy pride,— 
My reign is not begun. 
Though native of a distant clime, 
No British bloom I boast; 
Yet know, proud plant ! my form sublime, 
Eclipses all thine host. 
