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Yet with harmonious pulses thrilled throughout,
Lady, and thou my brother, ye whose hearts Have feeling, thankfulness, perceptions deep, Proportionate to that which ye enjoy, Well are ye matched; domesticated here, And linked harmoniously in golden chains, That make sweet music as ye walk along Your path in life, without discordant fears, Long may this cherished spot be blessed, and long May all the grove and all the day be yours.
THE BEE ORCHIS.
EE, dearest girl, this image bright !
Why starts my fair one at the sight ? It mounts not on obtrusive wing, Nor threatens thee with angry sting. Admire, as close the insect lies, Its thin-wrought plume, and honeyed thighs, Whilst on this flowret's velvet breast, It seems as though 'twere lulled to rest, Nor might its fairy wings unfold, Enchained in aromatic gold. Think not to set the captive free: 'Tis but the picture of a bee.
Yet wonder not that Nature's power
And labouring well to store the hive,
For when in Parian stone wę trace
THE favourite fawn is gliding to and fro,
With all the grace of Rylstone's famous doe, Down the green lane, and through the half-wild glade By over-arching birch and hazel made; Whose boughs subdue, but shut not out, the ray That chequers with soft light her sides of bay. Her every motion regular and free As liquid lapse of summer waves can be; Yet slow and stately, as a cloud goes by When only one is in the summer sky; And now she stands foreshortened, and at rest, A perfect model for some sculptured knightly crest.
But if her mistress should appear,
With eager neck, and nostril wide,