







208 THE POETRY OF FLC WERS. 
Where morning paints the orient skies, 
Her fingers burn with roseate dyes! 
And when, at length, with pale decline, 
Its florid beauties fade and pine, 
Sweet as in youth its balmy breath 
Ditfuses odour e’en in death! 
O, whence could such a plant have sprung § 
Attend—for thus the tale is sung :— 
When humid from the silvery stream, 
Effusing beauty’s warmest beam, 
Venus appeared in flushing hues, 
Mellowed by Ocean’s briny dews; 
When, in the starry courts above, 
The pregnant brain of mighty Jove 
Nisclosed the nymph of azure glance! 
The nymph who shakes the martial lance! 
Then, then, in strange eventful hour, 
The earth produced an infant flower, 
Which sprung with blushing tinctures dress’ 4, 
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 
Kizpand their bosoms to the morn. 




























DECI 
{in with gc 
IN maiden 
Yow, gen 
Iny lover 
Imay the 
te su 
1 num! 
loves not 
‘loves me 
‘luck. th 
‘les me 
ther loy 
Tae sng 
Awak 
And fin 

