“Which then of all the painted train
“That swell this garden’s pride,
“Shall with my honour’d name compare,
“Or sway with me divide?”
VIII.
This mark’d the ROSE, a modest flow’r,
With maiden blushes bright;
Who, vex’d to hear the boaster’s vaunt,
Asserts her native right.
IX.
“What are thy titles vain, she said,
“That claim superior sway?
“Or why should all fair FLORA’S tribes
“A rule like thine obey?
X.
“False is thy boast; thy title vain
“Not Gallia’s self will own;
“Whose real LILIES droop and fade,
“Where-e’er my flow’rs are known.
XI.
“Why IRIS?—Why by Heav’n’s own bow
“Would’st thou thus climb to fame?
“Or cannot many a vary’d flow’r
“Exert a fairer claim?
XII.
“Plain FLAG thou art;—let that suffice;
“With LILIES I contend;
“But flow’rs like thine I still regard,
“Alike as foe or friend.”
XIII.
The vain pretender heard, abash’d,
And hung her drooping head;
While to the genial fun her leaves
The ROSE expanding spread.
XIV.
Her odour strait proclaim’d her queen
Of all the smiling flow’rs;
While the Bee sought the fragrant breast,
And left his honey’d bow’rs.
XV.
Thus to the ROSE the meed was giv’n;
FLORA confirm’d her reign;
And worth, like her’s, approv’d by Heav’n,
Shall Heav’n itself maintain.