FABLE XI.
The VIOLET Transplanted.
I.
WHERE fragrant field-flow’rs, gaily spread,
Drink deep the morning dew;
Close by a murm’ring riv’let’s side
An humble Vi’let grew.
II.
To her the cultur’d spot unknown,
She bloom’d in her retreat;
And there in native fragrance bless’d,
Dispers’d a world of sweet.
III.
But yet not undisturb’d her lot
By Providence was cast;
For oft’ the herds went grazing forth
And laid the meadow waste.
IV.
And oft’ the trav’ler’s careless step
Had laid her on the plain;
Yet, by the living streamlet fed,
She soon reviv’d again.
V.
At length a curious Florist saw
The sweetly blooming flow’r;
Call’d her the field’s and garden’s pride,
And plac’d her in his bow’r.
VI.
Here, with a thousand beauties rang’d,
Her elegance was lost;
No more the cultur’d spot she grac’d;
No more fair Flora’s boast.
VII.
Abandon’d by his hand, who first
Her charms with pleasure view’d;
She in her rise beheld her fate,
And now neglected stood.
VIII.
She droop’d, she pin’d; the richer soil
No nurture could afford;
And oft’ in vain her humbler lot
The fading flow’r deplor’d.
IX.
The happier tribes that flourish’d round
Did each her state deride;
Rejoicing that she paid so dear
For what they deem’d her pride.
X.
The Sun in Cancer flam’d aloft
Dry thirst her moisture drank;
In vain she wish’d the lucent flood,
Or shade of osiers dank.
XI.
Oppress’d at length she drooping fell,
As ready to expire;
Her bosom unresisting spread
To Sol’s consuming fire.
XII.
When lo! from heav’n a gentle rain
Cool’d that too fervid ray;
And soon reviv’d the beauteous flow’r,
Which glow’d upon the day.
XIII.
Her bloom restor’d, renew’d again;
Her former lord attends;
And midst the fairest of the fair
She numbers now her friends.
XIV.
Yet, deeply struck with former ills,
An humble flow’r she blooms;
No pride that lovely bosom knows,
Whence Zephyr steals perfumes;
XV.
And to the Fair this useful truth
She evermore reveals;
That she best knows her Beauty’s force,
Who modestly conceals.