The Vale of Cluyd, XLI–XLVI

All claim’d preferment, and each one could boast Of some bright beauty or perfection dear, Which should induce mankind to prize her most, And to preferment make her title clear.

And some, of empty shew and titles vain; Alas! that Pride so many should deceive! Claim’d o’er their kindred plants and flow’rs to reign: And of their birthright others would bereave.

The Crown Imperial, and the spurious Flow’r Which boasts of royal arms and royal mien; The warlike Plant that claims immortal pow’r, And that gay lady call’d the Meadow’s Queen.

All these, and more, that scorn’d a subject state, Rose to the claim of high imperial sway: Forgetting—to be good was to be great— They rose to rule, unpractis’d to obey.

Others again for beauty’s meed contend, Chief amidst whom appear’d the Tulip race; A painted tribe, born only to contend For praise, where all is giv’n external grace.

Alcæa proud; and lovely Venus’ joy, That does from adverse winds its title claim; The once conceited, self-admiring Boy, Whose love prepost’rous gave a flow’r a name.

Iris, or Fleur de lis.