And all that nature has of good and true:

O well for me that worth all would admire

Most should unconscious leave to my employ;

So may thy budding beauties breathe their fire,

All unattempted by the world’s annoy:

So nature crowns her gifts by liberal growth,

She owes success and sanctifies her troth.

{7}

{7}

VII.

But soon the rosebud, in developed beauty,

Unfolds its maiden, luring charms to light;

Soon love usurps the walks of tired duty,

And shows its godlike fulness to the sight;

The eaglet soon gladdens his golden plumage,

In the intensest orient of the sun;

Even the meek violet gently must assume age,

And glance through leaves the merit she hath won;

The noon it stealeth from the dewy morning,

And amorous night catcheth the trembling day,

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