Familiar letters and poems on several occasions By Mary Masters |
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The Rose and other Flowers, a Tale; inscribed to a young Lady.
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 | Familiar letters and poems on several occasions |  |
The Rose and other Flowers, a Tale; inscribed to a young Lady.
When Beasts could speak, and feather'd Birds
Convers'd like us, and utter'd Words:
When Things inanimate could Chatter,
And moralize on ev'ry Matter.
In blooming Youth a sprightly Rose,
Amidst the flow'ry Belles arose,
That paint the Gardens gay Parterre,
Herself she thought the Fairest there,
And thus she spoke with flaunting Air.
Convers'd like us, and utter'd Words:
When Things inanimate could Chatter,
And moralize on ev'ry Matter.
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Amidst the flow'ry Belles arose,
That paint the Gardens gay Parterre,
Herself she thought the Fairest there,
And thus she spoke with flaunting Air.
Ladies, indeed, I must confess,
I like the Colours of your Dress;
That pretty Lilly here so white,
That Hyacinth enchants my Sight.
I like the Colours of your Dress;
That pretty Lilly here so white,
That Hyacinth enchants my Sight.
Yon soft Carnation—how it pleases,
And sweetly, Zephyr, scents thy Breezes;
That Jonquil too, or let me die,
Is most delighting to the Eye—
The Jessamin's delicious smell,
I vow I relish very well—
The Tulip too her Beauty shares—
But which of you with me compares?
How well my Red and White bespeak
The Charms that dwell on Delia's Cheek:
And then again the Lover sips
My Sweets from Delia's modest Lips:
By me young Poets are supply'd,
Her Blush I give the bashful Bride;
And but for me how wond'rous faint,
Would be the Artist's mimic Paint.
Me, when enliv'ning Phœbus greets,
How tasteless are Arabian sweets:
Behold, with fine expanded Wings,
Yon flutt'ring Beaux, those busy Things
With wanton Buz around me play,
And court me all the live long Day.
And sweetly, Zephyr, scents thy Breezes;
That Jonquil too, or let me die,
Is most delighting to the Eye—
The Jessamin's delicious smell,
I vow I relish very well—
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But which of you with me compares?
How well my Red and White bespeak
The Charms that dwell on Delia's Cheek:
And then again the Lover sips
My Sweets from Delia's modest Lips:
By me young Poets are supply'd,
Her Blush I give the bashful Bride;
And but for me how wond'rous faint,
Would be the Artist's mimic Paint.
Me, when enliv'ning Phœbus greets,
How tasteless are Arabian sweets:
Behold, with fine expanded Wings,
Yon flutt'ring Beaux, those busy Things
With wanton Buz around me play,
And court me all the live long Day.
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Behold my Beauties well, and own
Yours center all in me alone,—
Where'er I dwell, in Gardens Bowers,
Confess me still the Queen of Flowers.
The humble Cowslip thus reply'd,
Insulting Minx we scorn your Pride;
Your Merit claims a Place 'tis true,
Among the first for Smell and Hue,
But then remember, tho' so gay,
Your Reign is but a single Day—
Consider too Nature bestows,
Not all her Favours on the Rose;
In all she does there's great Design,
You have your Use, and I have mine.
Yours center all in me alone,—
Where'er I dwell, in Gardens Bowers,
Confess me still the Queen of Flowers.
The humble Cowslip thus reply'd,
Insulting Minx we scorn your Pride;
Your Merit claims a Place 'tis true,
Among the first for Smell and Hue,
But then remember, tho' so gay,
Your Reign is but a single Day—
Consider too Nature bestows,
Not all her Favours on the Rose;
In all she does there's great Design,
You have your Use, and I have mine.
You'll now dear Kitty sure be able,
To guess the Moral of my Fable;—
That Riches, Beauty, Titles, Pow'r,
Are but the Trifles of an Hour—
Pride ill becomes the noblest Breast;
Still the most Modest are the Best.
To guess the Moral of my Fable;—
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Are but the Trifles of an Hour—
Pride ill becomes the noblest Breast;
Still the most Modest are the Best.
S.
| Familiar letters and poems on several occasions | |