Chapter LXXVII

No longer now near FLORA’S bow’r I stood,
But view’d with op’ning eyes the rising day;
Then down the Valley fair my path pursu’d,
And homeward took my solitary way.

FABLES OF FLOWERS.

FABLE I.

The HOLLYHOCK and the LILY of the VALE.

I.

’Twas early morn, Sol’s radiant beams
Illum’d the landscape round.
The dew-drops glitter’d on the day,
And gem-like deck’d the ground.

II.

Within the garden’s cultur’d walks
A Hollyhock there grew;
And there the Lily of the Vale
Kept humble distance due.

III.

Elate with pride, the gaudy flow’r
Expands its swelling breast;
And, joying in the vernal scene,
The LILY thus address’d:

IV.

“What dost thou here, mean paltry thing,
“Go blow in yonder field;
“Nor thus disgrace fair FLORA’S tribes,
“That heav’nly beauties yield.

V.

“Go, with thy faint and sickly hue;
“Some chearless vale adorn;
“But here intrude not on our reign,
“Nor drink the dew of morn.

VI.

“Whilst I with heighten’d colours glow,
“In Summer’s liv’ry gay;
“Imbibe the softest tints of light,
“And glitter on the day.

VII.

“Me yonder golden sun shall warm,
“At morn and noon-tide hour;
“And me his ev’ning beams attend,
“Like his own fav’rite flow’r.

VIII.

“Nor yonder Rose, nor Bacchus’ Plant,
“Which twining near me grows,
“Can boast more excellence than me,
“Or brighter dyes disclose.

IX.

“Hence thou! nor this fair spot profane,
“Where fairer flow’rets blow;
“Return again to shades obscure,
“And there neglected grow.”

X.

The LILY heard, with decent grace,
That scorn’d the boaster’s pride;
Then from her lone, unenvy’d bed
She thus in brief reply’d;

XI.

“From vaunting loud what fame is gain’d,
“To raise the boaster’s name;
“Or might not yonder blushing Rose
“Exert a fairer claim?

XII.

“And many a flow’r that round thee blows,
“In the bright garb of Spring;
“Or, rich in elegant perfumes,
“That scent the Zephyr’s wing.

XIII.

“The vine, with purple clusters deck’d,
“Shall soon rich sweets bestow;
“Whilst thou, a barren flow’r at best,
“Art only made for show.

XIV.

“For ME;—what Nature form’d, I am;
“I envy not thy pride;
“Nor seek to raise a greater boast,
“By Providence deny’d.

XV.

“Yet in some dark and dang’rous hour,
“When tempests rude assail;
“Ev’n thou may’st wish the humbler state
“Of LILY OF THE VALE.”

XVI.

Safe from her humble spot she said,
And view’d the changing sky;
From op’ning clouds the thunders break,
The livid lightnings fly.

XVII.

Full on the garden’s lofty wall,
The flow’rs exalted place,
The fires æthereal swiftly fall,
And rend its solid base.

XVIII.

And now the boaster’s trust and pride
Assur’d her overthrow;
Her glories buried in the dust,
By one destructive blow.

XIX.

The LILY view’d the ruin’d flow’r,
And strait this Moral drew;
_Beauty and Pride are idly vain,_
_But Praise is Merit’s due_.

XX.

_Daughters of Albion, timely wise,_
_Attend the moral tale;_
_And imitate with prudent care_
THE LILY OF THE VALE.

FABLE II.

The ALOE in BLOSSOM.

I.

“From warmer climates early borne,
“Where beams the god of light;
“How gaily blooms yon lofty plant,
“In native colours bright!

II.

“The root, the plant, the leaf, the flow’r,
“Alike our wonder raise;
“And all confess the fragrant stock,
“Renown’d in ancient days.

III.

“Some say, but one revolving age
“Beholds thy beauties spread;
“And rear aloft to genial suns
“Its highly blooming head.

IV.

“But thou, like Merit, kindly nurs’d,
“An early spring wilt know;
“While, check’d by rigid, frowning skies,
“Thy gems forget to glow.

V.

“Emblem of Genius rarely known,
“And still more rarely giv’n;
“To reap the good itself imparts,
“And share the gifts of Heav’n.

VI.

“Say, glorious stranger, rear’d erewhile
“In distant, sunny lands;
“Can either India more bestow,
“Than Albion’s isle commands?

VII.

“In western and in southern climes
“Too long hast thou been plac’d;
“And India’s sands, and Afric’s wilds,
“Thy beauteous presence grac’d.

VIII.

“Deign then, O sov’reign plant, thy balm,
“On this our land bestow;
“And give thy flow’rs in all their grace
“And lustre here to blow.”—

IX.

The Guardian Sylph, that watch’d the flow’r,
Confess’d before me stood;
And shook his bright and sunny locks,
And thus my suit withstood:

X.

“Cease, cease, he cry’d, such boons to ask,
“As scarce deserve a name;
“While Albion, favour’d from above,
“Can greater blessings claim.

XI.

“Still, still, their gems and spicy store,
“Let either India boast;
“And Afric vaunt the precious sands,
“That glitter on her coast.

XII.

“Not these, nor all the hidden wealth,
“That earth or sea possess;
“Can match those richer gifts of heav’n,
“Which fair Britannia bless.

XIII.

“Peace, Freedom, Wealth from farthest shores,
“By golden commerce brought;
“All these are hers, and ev’ry good,
“By happiest nations sought.

XIV.

“Nor _this_ alone; here Genius blooms,
“A _Flow’r_ excelling _mine_.
“Nor asks a whole revolving age,
“In glories to refine.

XV.

“Here too the Fair, with beauty bright,
“The hearts of heroes warm;
“Those _human blossoms_ genial blow,
“And put forth ev’ry charm.

XVI.

“Cease then, _nor envy other climes_
“_Their beauties thinly strewn_;
“_But learn with decent pride to prize_
“_The blessings of your own_.”

FABLE III.

The ROSE and the HORNET.

I.

Deep in a lone sequester’d vale,
Where many’ a streamlet flows;
And nurs’d by many’ a gentle gale,
Soft bloom’d a damask Rose.

II.

The Summer’s suns, the Zephyrs bland,
All own’d her peerless queen;
The honey’d Bee, Spring’s sweetest child,
Oft’ sought her breast serene.

III.

Her beauties op’ning on the day,
With ev’ry grace were crown’d;
Imbib’d the golden solar beam,
And deck’d the desart ground.

IV.

Daughter of Nature, still she blow’d,
Where human face ne’er shone;
And spread her blossoms to the view
But of the Sun alone.

V.

Pride of the East, a brighter glow,
Beyond our garden’s bloom,
Bade her with heighten’d beauty blush,
And scatter rich perfume.

VI.

Her rudely rushing through the air
An angry HORNET ’spy’d;
Vow’d to enjoy the heav’nly flow’r,
In all her blooming pride.

VII.

Bold son of heat, with rudest haste,
His course he strait address’d;
To rifle all her charms in spite,
And riot on her breast.

VIII.

He search’d each leaf, each blossom wounds
With rude unhallow’d rage;
Yet nothing could his search explore,
His passion to assuage.

IX.

The beauteous flow’r, though wildly rent,
No sweetness would afford;
But hurt by many a vengeful thorn,
His rashness he deplor’d.

X.

At length, thus baffled and deceiv’d,
Enrag’d, he silence broke;
And now of ev’ry hope bereft,
He thus insulting spoke;

XI.

“Vain gaudy flow’r, they term thy breast
“Engaging, bright, and fair;
“Who seek thy bosom, ne’er shall find
“Or joy or sweetness there.

XII.

“The Bee indeed, thy fav’rite, still
“Says, Honey springs from thee;
“Yet nought but trouble, care, and pain,
“Hast thou bestow’d on me.

XIII.

“Then boast no more thy beauteous form
“That still excites desire;
“Since _Thorns_ alone thou canst bestow,
“To quench a lover’s fire.”

XIV.

Then thus the Rose,—“Intruder vile!
“Who thus would’st force employ;
“Though arm’d with pow’r; know ’tis not thine
“To taste substantial joy.

XV.

“The Bee, who sips each sweet that glows
“In lawn or shady bow’r,
“Tastes all the honey as he flies,
“But never wounds the flow’r.

XVI.

“Whilst thou, both impious and unwise,
“Of all our tribes the scorn:
“For ev’ry violated sweet
“Shalt always meet a thorn.”

FABLE IV. The SENSITIVE PLANT.

I.

Rare plant, or flow’r, or nymph-like tree,
With human sense endu’d;
Why dost thou shrink beneath the touch,
And bear but to be _view’d_?

II.

Say does some Hamadryad chuse
In that green stem to live?
And to her highly favour’d shrine
This strong sensation give?

III.

Well for thy sake their ancient oaks
The wood-nymphs might forsake;
And in thy purer bosom with
Their lov’d abodes to make.

IV.

Yet why indignant from each hand
Alike dost thou retire?
Does ev’ry touch, replete with ill,
Alike thy hate inspire?

V.

Too cautious nymph! well might’st thou deign
To some thy breast unfold;
Sure those would _worship_ at the _touch_,
Who _love_ when they _behold_.

VI.

Shrunk in herself, with modest grace
The Plant thus fair reply’d,
“Whate’er my source, my maiden state
“But ill agrees with pride[10].

[10] This flower is encompassed with thorns, and its root is said to have a poisonous quality.

VII.

“In purity alone I joy;
“I seek no other fame,
“But that which from chaste wishes grows,
“And suits a virgin’s name.

VIII.

“Nymphs of the woods, the groves, and streams,
“Too oft have found the smart
“Of looser fires, which, once indulg’d,
“Will rankle in the heart.

IX.

“Me no rude touch shall e’er profane;
“That guard if once I leave,
“Of ev’ry virtue well I know
“Mankind would me bereave.

X.

“Nor this alone, know, curious youth,
“A thorny mail I own;
“Foe to the rash unthinking hand
“That violates my throne.

XI.

“And ev’n within this spotless breast
“Does deadly venom spring;
“So he that ravishes the sweets,
“May meet the mortal sting.

XII.

“Go then, and range from flow’r to flow’r,
“Amidst the gaudy train:
“But sacred be my homely plant,
“To bright-hair’d Vesta’s reign.

XIII.

“She ceas’d; nor I the flow’r profan’d,
“To chastity devote;
“But on the sand with rustic pen,
“This sacred moral wrote:

XIV.

_The Nymph who slights strict virtue’s guard,_
_Shall quickly meet a snare;_
_And Pleasures, rais’d on Virtue’s bane,_
_Are fatal, as they’re fair._

FABLE V.

The HAWTHORN and the PRIMROSE.

I.

Beneath a wild and rustic shade,
Impervious to the view;
In the sweet-smiling month of May,
A lovely Primrose grew.

II.

The gentle child of early Spring
By bounteous FLORA crown’d;
With vernal beauties born to deck
The unfrequented ground.

III.

The brightest dye, the sweetest scent,
Her yellow leaves could yield;
Were spent upon the empty air,
Nor e’er adorn’d the field.

IV.

For round her grew a bushy brake,
With many’ a thorn beset;
And many’ a weed obscene and foul
Deform’d the green retreat.

V.

But high above the rest advanc’d
A spreading Hawthorn rose;
Whose lengthen’d branches overhung
The seat of her repose.

VI.

Her gem-like blossoms wide display’d
The darkling dell adorn;
With grateful fragrance kiss the wind,
And drink the dew of morn’.

VII.

Her the lone Rose in mournful guise
Full many a day had ey’d;
And thus at length one summer’s eve
She all impatient cry’d.

VIII.

“Ah Thorn! the bane of all my hopes!
“Ah Thorn! that wound’st my peace!
“Still must I view thy branches spread,
“And still my woes increase:

IX.

“I who long since had, happier far,
“Been by some fair caress’d;
“Had drunk the radiance of her eye,
“And panted on her breast?

X.

“What have I done, O wretch! that still
“This evil treatment meets;
“Or hast thou aught in lieu to give
“To those who lose my sweets?”

XI.

She said:—the Hawthorn thus reply’d,
“Fond pageant of an hour!
“Art _thou_ displeas’d because _I_ bloom,
“Though shelter’d by my pow’r?

XII.

“And know’st thou not that but for _me_
“Thy boasted bloom were vain;
“By grazing herds trod under foot,
“And level’d with the plain?

XIII.

“_Thee_ I protect; _myself_ am known
“Among the warlike race;
“Whom Nature arms with prompt defence
“Of most excelling grace.

XIV.

“Nor idly I these weapons wear,
“Nor idle is my bloom;
“One arms me for myself and thee;
“The other sheds perfume.

XV.

“And oft as this returning month
“Adds vigour to the year;
“Crown’d with my gems in rustic dance
“The nymphs and swains appear.

XVI.

“Me the fleet hare, and tim’rous fawn,
“Seek at their greatest need;
“They rest secure beneath my shade,
“And on my bounty feed.

XVII.

“But most the plaintive Philomel,
“Sweet warbler of the grove,
“Joys ’midst my branches to repose,
“And sing her hapless love.

XVIII.

“Against my thorns her bosom plac’d,
“She strains her tuneful throat;
“And by my useful aid exalts
“Each sweetly trilling note.

XIX.

“Sacred to FLORA, of her train
“Although no flow’r am I;
“And born to flourish many a moon,
“When thou shalt fade and die.”

XX.

“Cease then, nor envy this my state,
“Which must _thy own_ defend;
“The thorns I bear shall save thy flow’r,
“And prove thy surest friend.”