FABLE III.
The ROSE and the HORNET.
I.
DEEP in a lone sequester’d vale,
Where many’ a streamlet flows;
And nurs’d by many’ a gentle gale,
Soft bloom’d a damask Rose.
II.
The Summer’s suns, the Zephyrs bland,
All own’d her peerless queen;
The honey’d Bee, Spring’s sweetest child,
Oft’ sought her breast serene.
III.
Her beauties op’ning on the day,
With ev’ry grace were crown’d;
Imbib’d the golden solar beam,
And deck’d the desart ground.
IV.
Daughter of Nature, still she blow’d,
Where human face ne’er shone;
And spread her blossoms to the view
But of the Sun alone.
V.
Pride of the East, a brighter glow,
Beyond our garden’s bloom,
Bade her with heighten’d beauty blush,
And scatter rich perfume.
VI.
Her rudely rushing through the air
An angry Hornet ’spy’d;
Vow’d to enjoy the heav’nly flow’r,
In all her blooming pride.
VII.
Bold son of heat, with rudest haste,
His course he strait address’d;
To rifle all her charms in spite,
And riot on her breast.
VIII.
He search’d each leaf, each blossom wounds
With rude unhallow’d rage;
Yet nothing could his search explore,
His passion to assuage.
IX.
The beauteous flow’r, though wildly rent,
No sweetness would afford;
But hurt by many a vengeful thorn,
His rashness he deplor’d.
X.
At length, thus baffled and deceiv’d,
Enrag’d, he silence broke;
And now of ev’ry hope bereft,
He thus insulting spoke;
XI.
“Vain gaudy flow’r, they term thy breast
“Engaging, bright, and fair;
“Who seek thy bosom, ne’er shall find
“Or joy or sweetness there.
XII.
“The Bee indeed, thy fav’rite, still
“Says, Honey springs from thee;
“Yet nought but trouble, care, and pain,
“Hast thou bestow’d on me.
XIII.
“Then boast no more thy beauteous form
“That still excites desire;
“Since Thorns alone thou canst bestow,
“To quench a lover’s fire.”
XIV.
Then thus the Rose,—“Intruder vile!
“Who thus would’st force employ;
“Though arm’d with pow’r; know ’tis not thine
“To taste substantial joy.
XV.
“The Bee, who sips each sweet that glows
“In lawn or shady bow’r,
“Tastes all the honey as he flies,
“But never wounds the flow’r.
XVI.
“Whilst thou, both impious and unwise,
“Of all our tribes the scorn:
“For ev’ry violated sweet
“Shalt always meet a thorn.”