But where a thousand mingling sweets
Diffus’d a rich perfume;
The gaudy COCK’S COMB, idly vain,
Appear’d in all its bloom.
V.
And “Matchless excellence!” he cry’d,
“With ME what can compare?
“The sweetest of the vernal train
“Were never half so fair.
VI.
“My crested head erect I rear,
“And bloom with matchless grace;
“The brightest hue my leaves adorns,
“Of all the flow’ry race.
VII.
“Nay, to immortal pow’rs a-kin,
“Descent from Heav’n I claim;
“And from eternal-blooming Flow’rs
“Derive my honour’d name.”