The pruner’s blade (like as the surgeon’s knife)
Makes deep incisions to prolong her life.
Oh! how she mourns when one by one are fled
Those purple beauties which she bore and bred,
And nurtur’d in the glory of her age—
The admiration of her country’s sage:
Contrast her fan-like leaves with her choice fruit;
Trace her frail topmost tendril to its root,
When Horus[108] upon high sends down his beams,
And sheds his golden bounty forth in streams,