Fragment, 
Sir Walter Scott. 
ND well the lonely infant knew 
Recesses where the wall-flower grew, 
And honeysuckle loved to crawl 
Up the low crag and ruined wall. 
I deemed such nooks the sweetest shade 
The sun in all his round surveyed, 
And still I thought that shattered tower 
The mightiest work of human power. 
Sonnet. 
Spenser. 
WERT is the Rose, but growes upon a brere; 
Sweet is the Juniper, but sharpe his bough; 
Sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere; 
Sweet is the Firbloom, but his branches rough; 
Sweet is the Cypress, but his rind is tough, 
Sweet is the Nut, but bitter is his pill; 
Sweet is the Broome-flowere, but yet sowre enough; 
And sweet is Moly, but his roote is ill. 

