Fowle's New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

The VI. Ode.
By the Rev. Mr. Wortley.

SERENE is the morn—the lark leaves his rest,
And sings a salute to the dawn;
The sun with his splendor embroiders the east,
And brightens the dew on the lawn:
While the sons of debauch to indulgence give way,
And slumber the prime of their hours,
Let us, my dear STELLA, this garden survey,
And make our remarks on the flowers.

The gay gaudy tulip observe as you walk,
How flaunting the gloss of its vest!
How proud! and how stately it stands on its stalk,
In beauty's diversity drest!
From the rose, the carnation, the pink, and the clove,
What odours incessantly spring!
The South wafts a richer perfume to the grove,
As he brushes the leaves with his wing.

Apart from the rest, in her purple array,
The violet humbly retreats;
In modest concealment, she peeps on the day.
Yet none can excel her in sweets:
So humble, that (tho' with unparallel'd grace
She might e'en a palace adorn)
She oft in the hedge hides her innocent face,
And grows at the foot of the thorn.

So beauty, my fair one, is doubly refin'd,
When modesty heightens her charms;
When meekness, like thine, adds a gem to her mind,
We long to be lock'd in her arms.
Tho' Venus herself from her throne should descend,
And the graces await on her call;
To thee the gay world would with preference bend,
And hail thee the Violet of all.