Till, deck’d with all the insect grace,
She sparkled fairest of her race.
In all her splendour, pomp, and pride,
The winged-gem a Boy espy’d;
Who, pleas’d to see how bright it shone,
Resolv’d to make the prize his own;
And straight with speed began to trace
The gilded Fly from place to place:
But, conscious of some danger near,
The Butterfly her course would steer,