The Rose

As late each flower that sweetest blows

I pluck'd, the Garden's pride!

Within the petals of a Rose

A sleeping Love I spied.

Around his brows a beamy wreath

Of many a lucent hue;

All purple glow'd his cheek, beneath,

Inebriate with dew.

I softly seiz'd the unguarded Power,

Nor scared his balmy rest:

And placed him, caged within the flower,

On spotless Sara's breast.

But when unweeting of the guile

Awoke the prisoner sweet,

He struggled to escape awhile

And stamp'd his faery feet.

Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight

Subdued the impatient boy!

He gazed! he thrill'd with deep delight!

Then clapp'd his wings for joy.

'And O!' he cried—'Of magic kind

What charms this Throne endear!

Some other Love let Venus find—

I'll fix my empire here.'