Whig Malignity.
A Simile.
Once in my pilgrimage forlorn,1
A flower of loveliest hue.2
Rear’d proud its head ’mid briar and thorn3
And creeping nettle too.4
I saw it yield its stately crest5
To greet the morning ray,6
It seem’d of all its fellows blest—7
The favourite of mid-day.8
But night came on, and in its train9
The sable demons
flew—10
They touched the leaves, and ne’er again,11
The gorgeous flower grew.12
Too soon alas ! the colour fled,13
That stately form reclin’d,14
The once erect and lovely head15
Now toss’d with every wind.16
Methought I heard the soft farewell17
In every breeze that sighed ;18
And, as I looked. the flower fell,19
Then kissed the earth and died!20