FABLE XI. The VIOLET Transplanted.

I. WHERE fragrant field-flow’rs, gaily spread, Drink deep the morning dew; Close by a murm’ring riv’let’s side An humble Vi’let grew. II. To her the cultur’d spot unknown, She bloom’d in her retreat; And there in native fragrance bless’d, Dispers’d a world of sweet. III. But yet not undisturb’d her lot By Providence was cast; For oft’ the herds went grazing forth And laid the meadow waste. IV. And oft’ the trav’ler’s careless step Had laid her on the plain; Yet, by the living streamlet fed, She soon reviv’d again. V. At length a curious Florist saw The sweetly blooming flow’r; Call’d her the field’s and garden’s pride, And plac’d her in his bow’r. VI. Here, with a thousand beauties rang’d, Her elegance was lost; No more the cultur’d spot she grac’d; No more fair Flora’s boast. VII. Abandon’d by his hand, who first Her charms with pleasure view’d; She in her rise beheld her fate, And now neglected stood. VIII. She droop’d, she pin’d; the richer soil No nurture could afford; And oft’ in vain her humbler lot The fading flow’r deplor’d. IX. The happier tribes that flourish’d round Did each her state deride; Rejoicing that she paid so dear For what they deem’d her pride. X. The Sun in Cancer flam’d aloft Dry thirst her moisture drank; In vain she wish’d the lucent flood, Or shade of osiers dank. XI. Oppress’d at length she drooping fell, As ready to expire; Her bosom unresisting spread To Sol’s consuming fire. XII. When lo! from heav’n a gentle rain Cool’d that too fervid ray; And soon reviv’d the beauteous flow’r, Which glow’d upon the day. XIII. Her bloom restor’d, renew’d again; Her former lord attends; And midst the fairest of the fair She numbers now her friends. XIV. Yet, deeply struck with former ills, An humble flow’r she blooms; No pride that lovely bosom knows, Whence Zephyr steals perfumes; XV. And to the Fair this useful truth She evermore reveals; That she best knows her Beauty’s force, Who modestly conceals.