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Said Ino, “ I prefer the Rose
To every radiant flower that blows;
For when the smiling seasons fly,
And winds and rain deform the sky,
And roses lose their vivid bloom,
Their leaves retain a sweet perfume.
Emblem of virtue! virtue stays
When beauty's transient hue decays;
Nor age, nor fortune's frown efface,
Or injure her inherent grace.”
" True," answered Daphnis ;“ but observe,
Unless some careful hand preserve
The leaves, before their tints decay,
They fall neglected ; blown away
By wintry winds or beating rains,
No breath of fragrancy remains.
Some kindly hand must interpose ;
For sore the wintry tempest blows,
And weak and delicate's the Rose."
* The Idyll, or Idyllion, seems to signify, according the practice of the ancients, a representation in verse, most commonly of some pastoral or rural incident.
The Rose that hails the morning,
Arrayed in all its sweets, Its mossy couch adorning,
The sun enamoured meets; Yet when the warm beam rushes,
Where, hid in gloom, it lies, O’erwhelmed with glowing blushes,
The hapless victim dies.
Sweet maid, this Rose discovers
How frail is beauty's doom, When flattery round it hovers,
To spoil its proudest bloom : Then shun each gaudy pleasure,
That lures thee on to fade, And guard thy beauty's treasure
To decorate a shade.
Ye violets, that first appear,
By your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud virgins of the year,
As if the spring were all your own
What are ye when the Rose is blown ?
SIR H. WOTTON.
ON THE OPENED ROSE.
On mark those smiling tears, that swell
The opened Rose : from heaven they fell,
And with the sunbeams blend ;
Blest visitations from above,
Such are the tender woes of love,
Fostering the heart they bend.
Yon viewless wanderer of the vale,
The spirit of the western gale,
At morning's break, at evening's close,
Inhales the sweetness of the Rose ;
And hovers o'er the uninjured bloom,
Sighing back the soft perfume ;
Vigour to the zephyr's wing,
Her nectar-breathing kisses fling;
And he the glitter of the dew,
Scatters on the Rose's hue.
Bashful, lo! she bends her head,
And darts a blush of deeper red !
BEAUTEOUS Rose-bud, young and gay,
Blooming in the early May;
Never mayst thou, lovely flow'r,
Chilly shrink in sleety show'r !
Never Boreas' hoary path,
Never Eurus' pois'nous breath,
Never baleful stellar lights,
Taint thee with untimely blights!
Never, never, reptile thief,
Riot on thy virgin leaf !
Not even Sol too fiercely view
Thy bosom blushing still with dew!
Mayst thou long, sweet crimson gem,
Richly deck thy native stem;
Till some ev'ning, sober, calm,
Dropping dews, and breathing balm,
While all around the woodland rings,
And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings ;
Thou, amid the dirgeful sound,
Shed thy dying honours round,
And resign to parent earth,
The loveliest form she e'er gave