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SELECTION OF POEMS.
JUDGMENT OF FLOWERS.
FAR from the busy haunts of men,
Hast thou not seen, at ev'ning hour, When Phoebus sunk beneath the main,
Reclin❜d in some sequester'd bow'r
The village maid, or shepherd swain ?
Hast thou not mark'd them cull with care
To deck the breast, or bind the hair,
And still expressive of the mind
Near Avon's banks, a cultur'd spot,
Who scenes of greater splendour scorn'd.
Three beauteous daughters bless'd his bed,
Once, when still ev'ning veil'd the sky,
The sire walk'd forth, and sought the bow',
And bade the lovely maids draw nigh,
The first with radiant splendour charm'd,
The next with love of beauty warm'd,
The third, who mark'd with depth of thought, How those bright flow'rs must droop away,
An ev'ning primrose only brought,
Which opens with the closing day.
The sage awhile in silence view'd
The various choice of fiow'rs displayed; And then (with wisdom's gift endu'd) Address'd each beauteous list'ning maid.
"Who chose the tulip's splendid dyes,
"The rose, though beauteous leaves and sweet
"But she, who, to fair daylight's train,
"Ambitious thou! the tulip race
In all life's varied course beware; Caught with sweet pleasure's rosy grace, Do thou its sharper thorns beware.
"Thou prudent still to virtue's lore,
He ceas'd-attend the moral strain
BY DR. BERNARD WILSON,
In answer to a scurilous Paper.
WHOE'ER thou art that thus hath tried
To blast my reputation,
And under colour of disguise,
Appear thou in thy proper shape,
To stab in secret with a tale
The brave will always shun,
Thy malice then must be in vain,
And fruitless thy design;
Because to injure is thy aim,
And to forgive is mine.