“Thy verdant foliage, though it shine, Emits a faint and sickly smell, While every leaf and thorn of mine Soft and delicious sweets exhale.
“And even those thorns thy folly blames, They shield me from the spoiler’s power, Whose niggard with an object claims, He knows must perish in an hour.
“Yes, and the bard by _love_ imprest, Or sacred _grief_, hath sought my shade; And there the anguish of his breast In mournful poesy display’d.
“Henceforth then, herb, to me give place, Long shall my charms be sung by fame, While all thy tawdry, worthless race Bloom and expire without a name.”
A HERMIT from his rocky cell, With pity the contention heard, And thrice did tears his eye-lids fill, And thrice he shook his silv’ry beard.
For in the vivid blooms he saw What he in former times had been, When passion was his only law, And pride led on each various scene.
But prosperous days full soon withdrew, _Wealth_ vanish’d like a fairy dream, And _Friendship_ from his moanings flew, And _Love_ forgot his wonted theme.
Then turn’d he from his devious path, (A path with many a thorn bestrew’d) From passions wild, and cares that scath, And sought this silent solitude.
“Frail flowers (he cried) forbear your strife, Why should the charms that nature gave, To bless your _fleeting space_ of life, That space, of mild content bereave?
“Let neither to the palm aspire, To each a share of praise is due, Rich is the odour of the _Brier_, And beauteous is the _Larkspur’s_ hue.
“But ah, since fate with stinted hand Allots to each her little day, Let PEACE its morning beam command, And gild serene its evening ray.
“For on the wing of _Speed_ draws near, Old DEATH, too faithful to his trust, And soon the _unlovely_ and the _fair_ Alike shall crumble into dust.”
Those balmy lips outvie the rose, A thousand sweets at once disclose; Each kiss is heaven itself confess’d, And nature made them to be press’d. As feasts the bee on Flora’s plain, I’d sip, and sip, and sip again; At every taste new joy I’d prove, And die of aromatic love. Then, charmer, ne’er deny the bliss That flows from thy delicious kiss; And if there be a joy intense In gratifying human sense, Be love, and love alone, your plan, And me alone the happy man.