





THE BOUQUET. 
HOLLYEGCK, 
ALCEA ROSEA. 
Ambition. 







How like a mounting devil in the heart, 
Rules the unreined ambition! Let it once 
But play the monarch, and its haughty brow 
Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought, 
And unthrones peace forever. Putting on 
The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns 
The heart to ashes; and, with not a spring 
Left in the bosom for the spirit’s lip, 
We look upon our splendor, and forget 
The thirst of which we perish! Yet hath life 
Many a falser idol. WILLIS. 







’T rs a glorious cheat! 
Angels of light walk not so dazzlingly 
The sapphire walls of Heaven. The unsearched 
mine 
Hath not such gems. Earth’s constellated thrones 
Have not such pomp of purple and of gold. 
WILLIS. 

