18 
O’er the bower of Flora a Chesnut Tree spread 
In splendour and pomp its luxuriant head; 
’Twas cover’d with blossoms which made it appear 
Like a lustre of pearl or a vast chandelier. 
And nigh to the Chesnut a Juniper threw 
Protection around the sweet spot where it grew, 
And the goddess’s temple, her evergreen throne, 
With Vervain and Scarlet Ipomea o’ergrown, 
Stood richly enwreath’d with each odorous flow’r, 
The brightest of buds, and the gems of the bow’r; 
And the hours of morn that preceded her way 
Had strew’d with Red Roses, the paths of the day; 
And lightly Love tript o’er the Rose without Thorn 
The pleasures of Childhood are Roses of Morn. 
The goddess here sounded her silvery shell, 
Till echo resounded thro’ mountain and dell, 
And Zephyrus hearing the signal of state 
Flew in haste to unbar and throw open the gate, 
To receive the fair guests and then softly proclaim, 
The mottos and titles of each as they came. 
