OF FLOWERS, 173 

id j atelier ae 
And, till a third surpasses you, 
Let each be deem’d a queen.’ 
Thus soothed and reconciled, both seek 
The fairest British fair ; 
The seat of empire is her cheek, 
They reign united there. 
THE VIOLET. 
BY SCOTT. 
Tue violet in her pun weus bower, 
Where birchen boughs with hazels mirgle, 
May boast herself the ‘fairest flower, 
In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. 
Though fair her gems of azure hue, 
Beneath the dew-drop’s weight reclining, 
I've seen an “eye of lovelier blue, 
More sweet through watery lustre shining, 
The summer sun that dew shall dry, 
Bre yet the day be past its morrow; 
No longer in my false love’s eye 
|| Reus ain d the tear of parting sorrow. 



