THE LILY AND THE ROSE. BY COWPER. THE nymph must lose her female friend Within the garden's peaceful scene The Rose soon redden'd into rage, The Lily's height bespoke command, A fair imperial flower; She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand, The sceptre of her power. This civil bickering and debate The goddess chanced to hear; And flew to save, ere yet too late, The pride of the parterre. "Yours is," she said, "the noblest hue, And yours the statelier mien; 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, THE VIOLET. BY SCOTT. THE Violet in her greenwood bower, May boast herself the fairest flower, 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, THE DYING GIRL AND FLOWERS. BEAR them not from grassy dells, Kindred to the breeze they are, Spread them not before the eyes, With the violet's breath would rise Dreams too sweet would haunt her bed; Hush! 'tis thou that dreaming art, Yes! o'er fountain, vale, and grove, Types of lovelier forms than these, Therefore in the lily's leaf She can read no word of grief; Therefore, once, and yet again, 12 THE NIGHT-SHADE. BY BARRY CORNWALL. TREAD aside from my starry bloom! With dainties piled, Until it grows strong as a tempest wild. Trample not on a virgin flower! To those who weep, And lie on their eyelids dark and deep. Tread not thou on my snaky eyes! That they strive to grasp, And one that a queen has loved to clasp! Pity me! I am she whom man Hath hated since ever the world began; I soothe his brain, In the night of pain, But at morning he waketh-and all is vain! |