

















THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 131 
Mellow’d by Ocean’s briny dews ; 
When in the starry courts above, 
The pregnant brain of mighty Jove 
Disclosed the nymph of azure glance— 
The nymph who shakes the martial lance— 
Then, then, in strange eventful hour, 
The earth produced an infant flower, 
Whichsprung with blushing tinctures dress’d, 
And wanton’d o’er its parent breast. 
The gods beheld this brilliant birth, 
And hail’d the Rose, the boon of earth! 
With nectar drops, a ruby tide, 
The sweetly orient buds they dyed, 
And bade them bloom, the flowers divine 
Of him who sheds the teeming vine ; 
And bade them on the spangled thorn 
Expand their bosoms to the morn. 










