Thy knowing needle plants the' embroider'd flower
As in its native bed: so may'st thou find
Delight perpetual and the' inclining ear
Of Heav'n propitious to thy maiden vow,
When thou shalt seek from Love a youth adorn'd
With all perfection, worthy of thy choice,
To bless thy night of joy and social care.
O happy he, for whom the vow is made!
THE care of gardens, and the garden's pride
To rear the blooming flowers, invites the Muse;
A grateful task! To thee, O Hume, she sings
Well-pleas'd amid the verdant walks to stray
With thee, her chief delight, when Summer smiles.
Come now, my love, nor fear the Winter's rage;
For see the winter's past, the rains are gone :
Behold the singing of the birds is now,
Season benign, the joyous race prepare
Their native melody, and warbling airs
Are heard in every grove: the flowers appear
Earth's smiling offspring, and the beauteous meads
Are cloth'd in pleasant green; now fruitful trees
Put forth their tender buds that soon shall swell
With rich nectarious juice, and woo thy hand
To pluck their ripen'd sweets. Forsake a while.
The noise of cities, and with me retire
To rural solitude: Lo! for thy head
I weave a garland, deck'd with vernal flowers,
Violet, and hyacinth, and blushing rose
Of every rich perfume; here in this calm
And undisturb'd retreat content to dwell
Secluded from mankind, with thee and Love
Sweet'ner of human cares. But thou perhaps
Delight'st to hear the voice that bids thee come
To festival and dance, thou long'st to meet
The raptur'd youth, that at assembly hour
Awaits thy coming: haste, adorn'd in all
Thy native softness, fresh as breathing flowers
Sweet smelling in the morning dew, and fire
His soul, ill able to resist such charms,
Won with attractive smiles; while I far off
Bemoan thy absence, and thy image form
In every thicket and each secret grove,
To soothe my longing mind by Fancy's aid,
Pleasing resemblance! until thou thyself,
O fairest among women, deign to grace
The bower that Love prepares, from me to learn
The care and culture of the flowery kind.
THE EPISODE OF THE THISTLE.
NOR to the garden sole where fair resides
As in her court the scarlet Queen, amid
Her train of flowery Nymphs, does Nature boon
Indulge her gifts; but to each nameless field,
When the warm sun rejoicing in the year
Stirs up the latent juice, she scatters wide
Her rosy children: then, innumerous births
As from the womb spring up, and wide perfume
Their cradles with ambrosial sweets around.
Far as the eye can reach all Nature smiles,
Hill, dale, or valley, where a lucid stream
Leads, through the level-down, his silver maze,
Gliding, with even pace, direct, as one
On journey bent, and now meandering fair,
Unnumber'd currents to and fro convolv'd,
His pastime, underneath the azure green
The wanton fishes sport; and round his banks,
Sole or in consort, the aërial kind
Resound in air with song: the wild thyme here
Breathes fragrance, and a thousand glittering flowers
Art never sow'd. Ev'n here the rising weed
The landscape paints the lion's yellow tooth,
The enamell'd daisy, with its rose adorn'd
The prickly briar, and the Thistle rude,
An armed warrior, with his host of spears.
Thrice happy plant! fair Scotia's greatest pride,
Emblem of modest valour, unprovok'd
That harmeth not; provok'd, that will not bear
Wrong unreveng'd: what though the humble root
Dishonour'd erst, the growth of every field
Arose unheeded through the stubborn soil
Jejune: though softer flowers, disdainful, fly
Thy fellowship, nor in the nosegay join,
Ill-match'd compeers; not less the dews of Heav'n
Bathe thy rough cheeks, and wash thy warlike mail,
Gift of indulgent skies! though lily pure
And rose of fragrant leaf, best represent
Maria's snowy breast and ruddy cheek
Blushing with bloom; though Ormond's laurel rear
Sublimer branch, indulging loftier shade
To heaven-instructed bard, that strings beneath,
Melodious, his sounding wire, to tales
Of beauty's praise, or from victorious camps
Heroes returning fierce: Unenvied may
The snowy lily flourish round the brow
Of Gallia's king; the Thistle happier far
Exalted into noble fame, shall rise
Triumphant o'er each flower, to Scotia's bards
Subject of lasting song, their Monarch's choice;
Who, bounteous to the lowly weed, refus'd
Each other plant, and bade the Thistle wave,
Embroider'd, in his ensigns, wide display'd
Along the mural breach. How oft, beneath
Its martial influence, have Scotia's sons
Through every age with dauntless valour fought
On every hostile ground! while o'er their breast,
Companion to the silver star, blest type
Of fame unsullied and superior deed,
Distinguish'd ornament! their native plant
Surrounds the sainted cross, with costly row
Of gems, emblaz'd, and flame of radiant gold,
A sacred mark, their glory and their pride!
But wouldst thou know how first the' illustrious Rose to renown? hear the recording Muse! [Plant While back through ages that have roll'd she leads The' enquiring eye, and wakens into life
Heroes and mighty kings whose god-like deeds
Are now no more; yet still the fame survives,
Victor o'er time, the triumph of the Muse!
As yet for love of arts and arms renown'd,
For hoary sires with gifts of wisdom grac'd,
Unrival'd maids in beauty's bloom, desire
Of every eye, and youthful gallant chiefs
For courage fam'd and blest with sacred song,
Flourish'd, sublime, the Pictish throne; and shar'd,
Rival of Scotia's power, fair Caledon.
Equals in sway, while both alike aspir'd
To single rule, disdaining to obey:
Oft led by hate and thirst of dire revenge
For ravish'd beauty, or for kindred slain,
Wide-wasting others realms with inroads fierce
Until the Second Kenneth, great in arms,
Brandish'd the' avenging sword, that low in dust,
Humbled the haughty race: yet oft, of war
Weary and havock dire, in mutual blood
Embru'd, the nations join'd in leagues of peace
Short space enjoy'd ; when nice suspicious fears,
By jealous love of empire bred, again,
With fatal breath, blew the dire flame of war,
Rekindling fierce. Thus, when Achaius reign'd,
By the disposing will of gracious Heav'n
Ordain'd the prince of peace, fair Ethelind,
Grace of the Pictish throne, in rosy youth
Of beauty's bloom, in his young heart inspir'd
Spousal-desires; soft love, and dove-ey'd peace,
Her dowry. Then, his hymeneal torch
Concord high brandish'd; and in bonds of love
Link'd the contending race. But, ah! how vain
Hopes mortal man, his joys on earth to last
Perpetual and sincere: for Athelstane,
Fierce from the conquest of great Alured,
Northumbrian ruler, came. On Tweda's shore
Full twenty thousand brazen spears, he fixt,
Shining a deathful view; dismay'd the brave
Erst undismay'd: ev'n he, their warlike chief,
Hungus, in arms a great and mighty name,
Felt his fierce heart suspended, if to meet
The' outrageous Saxon, dreadful in the ranks
Of battle disarray'd. Suppliant of help,
He sues the Seotish race, by friendly ties
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