FABLES OF FLOWERS,
FOR THE FEMALE SEX.
WITH
ZEPHYRUS and FLORA,
A VISION.

WRITTEN FOR THE AMUSEMENT OF

HER HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS ROYAL

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE CHOICE EMBLEMS, &C. &C.

Nature here

Wantons as in her prime, and plays at will

Her virgin fancies.

MILTON.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR GEORGE RILEY, BOOKSELLER,
IN CURZON-STREET, MAY-FAIR.

AND SOLD BY
JOHN WILKIE, ST. PAUL’S-CHURCH-YARD.
MDCCLXXIII.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

LADY CHARLOTTE FINCH.

THESE NEW FABLES
WRITTEN FOR THE AMUSEMENT

OF

HER HIGHNESS,

CHARLOTTE,

PRINCESS ROYAL OF ENGLAND.

• ARE MOST HUMBLY DEDICATED BY
• HER LADYSHIP’S
• MOST HUMBLE
• AND OBEDIENT SERVANT,
• THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

When I survey the divine simplicity and blooming attractions, that are displayed amongst the variegated tribes of the vegetable creation, I cease to wonder, that Queens forego, for a while, the compliments of a nation, or withdraw from the glitter of a court, to be attended with the more splendid equipage of a bed of flowers; where nothing seems wanting but the power of speech, to make them become the most pleasing Monitors.

How far the Author of the following Fables, written for the amusement of an exalted Personage, may have succeeded, in descriptive fancy, as a poet: it is hoped, that, the moral and refined admonitions which may be found to breathe, from the fragrant bosom of a silver-robed Lily, or a blooming Jonquil, will throw a veil over any poetical inaccuracies; for who can paint like Nature?

As to the novelty of the plan, I cannot but hold myself, in a great measure, indebted to an ingenious Lady[1], well known in the literary world. And can only say, that I have found both health and recreation in the completion of it; by sharing some of the sweetest hours of contemplation, among the lovely subjects of the following pages.

THE AUTHOR.

TABLE of CONTENTS.

ZEPHYRUS

AND

FLORA:

A VISION.

I.

AS late I wander’d o’er the flow’ry plain,

Where Cambrian Cluyd pours his silver tide,

Amidst the pleasures of fair Plenty’s reign,

And blushing flow’rs and fruits on ev’ry side:

II.

Soft sigh’d the west winds, murm’ring o’er the dale,

Whose ev’ry charm rose fresher from the breeze;

The lofty hills more boldly kiss’d the gale,

Which skimm’d their tops, and shook the wavy trees.

III.

The sun descending, shot his golden beams

Askance, with many a cloud his ev’ning throne

Adorn’d; while mountains, woods, and lucent streams,

With the last blushes of his radiance shone.

IV.

Far stretching hence, Cambria’s rough heights I view,

Where Liberty long since forlorn retir’d,

Left fairer climes, and skies of brighter hue,

And, but at last, triumphantly expir’d:

V.

And wide around me wound the fertile vale[2],

Fit theme and subject of the poet’s song;

Whose num’rous beauties load the passing gale,

Whose breath repeats them, as it glides along.

VI.

Bright Phœbus sunk, dim twilight now succeeds,

Still gleaming dubious with uncertain ray,

While tremblingly among the vocal reeds

The ev’ning breezes still more faintly play.

VII.

Amid this beauteous, soft, and flow’ry scene,

On a high bank, all listless, I reclin’d;

Whose shelving sides were crown’d with lively green,

By tufted trees and bord’ring flow’rs confin’d.

VIII.

Here, while the landscape faded on my sight,

Wild Fancy’s eye still brighter scenes supply’d;

I view’d not the last track of parting light,

Nor mark’d the fanning breezes as they dy’d.

IX.

At length, Imagination, roving maid,

Though gentle sleep had fetter’d all my pow’rs

In golden chains, my busy soul convey’d

To other landscapes and immortal bow’rs.

X.

Methought I stood amidst a garden fair,

Whose bounds no sight of mortal eye could trace,

Situate mid-way, betwixt earth, seas, and air,

Unmark’d by Time, uncircumscrib’d by Space.

XI.

Not half so sweet was that delightsome dale,

Which to my waking view appear’d so bright;

For here did never-ceasing suns prevail,

With mildest sweetness temp’ring heav’nly light.

XII.

Spring breath’d eternal glories o’er the land:

And gentlest winds, o’er fragrant lawns that blow,

Nurs’d beauteous buds unset by mortal hand,

And op’ning flow’rs that without planting grow.

XIII.

Serene the heav’ns, save where a cloudy shrine,

Big with cœlestial plenty, sail’d on high,

Show’r’d Spring’s own roses from her seat divine,

And drew a purple radiance o’er the sky.

XIV.

Meanwhile, soft music echoing from each grove,

Tun’d to enchanting notes most soft and clear,

That breath’d the soul of harmony and love,

Thrill’d the rapt breast, and charm’d the list’ning ear.

XV.

And still the while, with voices loud and sweet,

The warbling birds in dulcet concert join’d,

The waters murm’ring flow with cadence meet,

“Low answer’d by the gently whisp’ring wind.”

XVI.

These themes of wonder silent I survey’d,

Attentive hanging on each dying sound;

Pleas’d with the glories which I saw display’d,

And scenes of joy and pleasure op’ning round.

XVII.

Yet still methought a certain want appear’d,

Of some to own this spot, so heav’nly fair,

Else were each charming flow’ret vainly rear’d,

“To bloom unnotic’d to the desart air:”

XVIII.

Else, were in vain these soft melodious strains,

Which the whole soul of harmony inspir’d,

Pour’d to the wild woods and the lonely plains,

Though worthiest still by all to be admir’d.

XIX.

Such were creation’s first imperfect hours,

When the gay heav’ns in early beauty shone,

And earth, bedeck’d with beasts, birds, plants, and flow’rs,

Spread all her bosom to the genial sun;

XX.

Unfinish’d still the mighty work appear’d,

Till Man, the lord of all, was bid to rise;

With open brow his face divine who rear’d,

And sought with upright look his native skies.

XXI.

Thus as I paus’d, still louder swell’d the notes,

From ev’ry bush, and brake, and echoing hill;

While choirs cœlestial seem’d to tune their throats,

And, with glad voice the chearful chorus fill.

XXII.

Then, by some magic pow’r swift snatch’d away,

Ev’n to the midst of that delightful land,

I view’d at once all clad in bright array,

A thousand Genii of the gardens stand.

XXIII.

But far above all these a seat was plac’d,

Dress’d with each flow’r that ev’ry season knows,

Whose vary’d tints, in gem-like order, grac’d

The rural theatre which gradual rose.

XXIV.

For lo! the Genius of each blooming flow’r

Brought his own fav’rite with peculiar care,

To deck the arch of this inchanted bow’r,

And, bowing at the throne, he plac’d it there.

XXV.

A sight more beauteous ne’er did eye behold,

Than these bright tribes that glitter’d on the day;

And, rich in purple dyes and flaming gold,

Did their bright bosoms to the sun display.

XXVI.

Such was the throne;—but oh! what pen can trace

The heav’nly beauties of the matchless Two,

Who, glowing with each bright cœlestial grace,

Sat there aloft, conspicuous to the view!

XXVII.

The first, a youth of sweet and gentle mien,

With many a wreath and knotted garland crown’d;

Whose beauteous visage glow’d with charms serene,

And on whose shoulders purple wings were bound:

XXVIII.

These when he spreads, reviving Nature pours

Her copious treasures of immortal bloom;

Whilst through vast realms he scatters vernal stores,

And from his downy pinions shakes perfume.

XXIX.

His name was Zephyrus; and next him sat

The beauteous goddess of the blooming year,

The constant partner of his rural state,

To heav’n and earth, to gods and mortals dear;

XXX.

Flora, bright pow’r, who sheds a thousand sweets

O’er thousand lands, what time her gifts appear,

What time her consort with his kisses greets

Her coral lips, and wakes the rising year.

XXXI.

Her beauteous face was deck’d with youthful pride,

Her graceful form in flamy robes was dress’d;

And ev’ry charm wild Nature could provide,

Adorn’d her head, and beam’d upon her breast.

XXXII.

Beside the throne, rang’d in fair order, stood

The various Seasons of the rolling year;

By all their train of months, weeks, days, pursu’d:

And all their various symbols flourish’d here.

XXXIII.

First came the Spring, led by the rosy Hours,

With all the Loves and Graces in her train;

Deck’d with her wreath of never-fading flow’rs,

Diffusing odours o’er the smiling plain.

XXXIV.

Next Summer came; his cheeks with ardour fir’d,

With his own blushing fruits and harvests crown’d;

Before whose face the infant Spring retir’d,

And with her roses strew’d the russet ground.

XXXV.

Stain’d with the grape’s press’d juice, with steadier pace,

Still looking backward on preceding time,

Ripe Autumn next succeeded in his place;

Scatt’ring rich fruits, the growth of ev’ry clime.

XXXVI.

Last Winter comes, with heavy step and flow,

A hoary captive bound in icy chains;

With haggard eyes, and mantle dipp’d in snow,

Who still of cold in Spring’s own realms complains.

XXXVII.

Not one of these, but from their various store

Some off’ring meet to lovely Flora pay;

Not one of these, but with that off’ring more,

And her soft reign most willingly obey.

XXXVIII.

Ev’n Winter’s self, with look averted, throws,

His thin-strewn flow’rets on the goddess’ shrine;

Ev’n his cold bosom for a moment glows,

When he beholds her radiant form divine.

XXXIX.

But now the Genii of each plant and flow’r,

Rang’d in fair order, wait her high commands;

And each, approaching her delicious bow’r,

In expectation of her verdict stands.

XL.

For many of the garden’s painted race,

And some that with their colours deck the field,

Rivals in wealth, in beauty, and in grace,

Had wag’d high wars, unknowing how to yield.

XLI.

All claim’d preferment, and each one could boast

Of some bright beauty or perfection dear,

Which should induce mankind to prize her most,

And to preferment make her title clear.

XLII.

And some, of empty shew and titles vain;

Alas! that Pride so many should deceive!

Claim’d o’er their kindred plants and flow’rs to reign:

And of their birthright others would bereave.

XLIII.

The Crown Imperial, and the spurious Flow’r

Which boasts of royal arms and royal mien[3];

The warlike Plant that claims immortal pow’r[4],

And that gay lady call’d the Meadow’s Queen.

XLIV.

All these, and more, that scorn’d a subject state,

Rose to the claim of high imperial sway:

Forgetting—to be good was to be great—

They rose to rule, unpractis’d to obey.

XLV.

Others again for beauty’s meed contend,

Chief amidst whom appear’d the Tulip race;

A painted tribe, born only to contend

For praise, where all is giv’n external grace.

XLVI.

Alcæa proud[5]; and lovely Venus’ joy,

That does from adverse winds its title claim[6];

The once conceited, self-admiring Boy[7],

Whose love prepost’rous gave a flow’r a name.

XLVII.

The proud Carnation dipp’d in brightest dyes,

Who still with thirst of praise and glory burns;

With her whose mirrour cheats deluded eyes[8],

And she that still to her lov’d Phœbus turns[9].

XLVIII.

There, with their num’rous chiefs of diff’rent hues,

The painted Cock’s Comb, and his lofty train,

Their beauties vaunting, to the rest refuse

To share the glories of their gaudy reign.—

XLIX.

The judges sat, each sep’rate claim was heard,

While some for rule, and some for praises, sought;

And some had been disgrac’d, and some preferr’d,

As in the goddess’ mind their various pleadings wrought

L.

But her lov’d consort, gently whisp’ring, said:

“What means my Queen, on these to cast her sight,

Who have but pride or lust of sway display’d,

Nor brought their real worth or virtues to the light?”

LI.

How many absent now, more fair than these,

With greater fragrance in lone valleys blow?

Or, if the garden’s flow’ry tribe more please,

Where do the Rose and lovely Vi’let glow?

LII.

The Lily where, and all that num’rous host,

Who claim true praise to innate virtue due;

Or do they merit least who loudest boast,

And with false glare impose upon the view?

LIII.

For sure, of all who feel my genial gale,

Or to the sun their fragrant breasts unfold,

The best and sweetest that on earth prevail,

Yet do I not in this fair court behold.

LIV.

He said; and Flora, rising from her throne,

Bade present search for ev’ry one be made:

Who, though their off’rings on her altar shone,