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O thou poor, feeble, fleeting, pow'r, By Vice seduc'd, by Folly woo'd, By Mis'ry, Shame, Remorse, pursu'd; And as thy toilsome steps proceed, Seeming to Youth the fairest flow'r, Proving to Age the rankest weed, A gilded but a bitter pill, Of varied, great, and complicated ill! These lines are harsh, but they indicate an internal wretchedness, which I own, affects me.
O! had I but that purple flow'r whose leaves her charms can foil, And knew like fays to draw the juice, and throw it on the wind, I'd be her slave no longer, nor the traveller beguile, And help all faithful lovers, nor fear the fairy kind! Whatever St.
Oh! beautiful mouth like a scarlet flow'r, Oh! mouth with the wild, soft breath, Kiss close, kiss close in the dream-stricken bow'r, And whisper away the world; Till the wayward wings are furled, And the shadow is lifted from death Oh! beautiful mouth like a scarlet flow'r, Oh! mouth with the wild, soft breath!
What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever vanish'd from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of glory in the grass, of splendour in the flow'r yet am I mocked with a lie when I venture to think of it? Or do I not drink in and breathe again the air of heavenly truth when I but 'retrace its footsteps, and its skirts far off adore'? I cannot say with the same poet
Vain worldly fame's a painted flow'r Have a care! She dwells in an enchanted bow'r Many a snare. Beware She'll chide you in an evil hour. The world is but an empty show Have a care! Of true joys a dangerous foe Many a snare. Beware Her greatest gain's oft deepest woe. By the term affinity I mean that enamored feeling which arises in the hearts of those of opposite sex for each other.
And voic'd that no angel was ever so fair; How could you believe all the nonsense I spoke? What know we of angels? I meant it in joke I meant it in joke. What know we of angels? "DAMON. From flow'r to flow'r, his joy to change, Flits yonder wanton bee; From fair to fair thus will I range, And I'll be ever free. From fair to fair thus will I range, And I'll be ever free.
"Yet the lily has drank of the show'r, And the rose 'gins to peep on the day; And yon bee seems to search for a flow'r, As busy as if it were May: In vain, thou senseless flutt'ring thing, My heart informs me, 'tis not Spring." May pois'd her roseate wings, for she had heard The mourner, as she pass'd the vales along; And, silencing her own indignant bird, She thus reprov'd poor Silvio's song.
I can only quote Shenstone's delightful verses on Oxford, in his Ode to Memory, verses which I have quoted a hundred times: And sketch with care the Muses' bow'r, Where Isis rolls her silver tide, Nor yet omit one reed or flow'r That shines on Cherwell's verdant side, If so thou may'st those hours prolong When polish'd Lycon join'd my song.
In gardens oft a beauteous flow'r there grows, By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen; In sweet security it humbly blows, And rears its purple head to deck the green. This flower, as nature's poet sweetly sings, Was once milk-white, and hearts-ease was its name; Till wanton Cupid pois'd his roseate wings, A vestal's sacred bosom to inflame;
After awhile my companion began, catlike, to purr to himself a song. Its melody, the melody of "the moon withdrew behind a cloud," was familiar enough, but not so the words, which ran: Oh Valentina, wondrous maid, More comely thou than e'er a flow'r! The nurse's son doth pine for thee, And yearn to serve thee every hour! "What does that ditty mean?" I inquired.
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