"Flower! with a curious eye we scan
Thy leaf, and there discover
How passion triumphed—pain began—
Or in the immortal, or the man,
The hero, or the lover.
"The disk is hurled:—ah! fatal flight!
Low droops that beauteous brow:
But oh! the Delian's pang! his light
Of joy lies quenched in sorrow's night:
The deathless record thou.