The JUDGEMENT of FLOWERS

Far from the busy haunts of men, Far from the glaring eye of day; Still Fancy paints, with Nature’s pen, Such tints as never can decay.

Hast thou not seen, at ev’ning hour, When PHŒBUS sunk beneath the main, Reclin’d in some sequester’d bow’r, The village maid, or shepherd swain?

Hast thou not mark’d them cull with care Some favour’d flow’ret from the rest, To deck the breast, or bind the hair, Of those they priz’d and lov’d the best?

And still expressive of the mind The emblematic gift was found; Whether to mournful thought inclin’d, Or with triumphant gladness crown’d.—

Near AVON’S banks, a cultur’d spot, With many a tuft of flow’rs adorn’d, Was once an aged shepherd’s lot, Who scenes of greater splendor scorn’d.

Three beauteous daughters bless’d his bed, Who made the little plat their care; And ev’ry sweet by FLORA spread Attentive still they planted there.

Once, when still ev’ning veil’d the sky, The sire walk’d forth, and sought the bow’r; And bade the lovely maids draw nigh, And each select some favour’d flow’r.

The first, with radiant splendor charm’d, A variegated Tulip chose: The next, with love of beauty charm’d, Preferr’d the sweetly-blushing Rose.

The third, who mark’d, with depth of thought, How those bright Flow’rs must droop away, An Ev’ning Primrose only brought, Which opens with the closing day.

The sage a while in silence view’d The various choice of flow’rs display’d; And then (with wisdom’s gift endu’d) Address’d each beauteous list’ning maid!

“Who chose the Tulip’s splendid dyes, “Shall own, too late, when that decays, “That, vainly proud, not greatly wise, “She only caught a short-liv’d blaze.

“The Rose, though beauteous leaves and sweet “Its glorious vernal pride adorn: “Let her who chose beware to meet “The biting sharpness of its thorn.

“But she, who to fair day-light’s train “The Ev’ning flow’r more just preferr’d; “Chose real worth, nor chose in vain “The one great object of regard.

“Ambitious thou! the Tulip race “In all life’s vary’d course beware: “Caught with sweet Pleasure’s rosy grace, “Do thou its sharper thorns beware.

“Thou prudent still to Virtue’s lore, “Attend, and mark her counsels sage! “She like thy flow’r has sweets in store, “To soothe the ev’ning of thine age.”

He ceas’d—attend the moral strain, The Muse enlighten’d pours; Nor let her pencil trace in vain The Judgement of the Flow’rs.