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“Go, splendid sycophant! no more
“The flattering clime of courts explore,
“To me their praise more justly due,
“And find them in my fond embrace.
“How well,” the modest flower replied, /* Can Envy's wrested eye elude “The obvious bounds that still divide
' “Foul FLATTERY from fair GRATITUDE.
“ My duteous praise each hour I pay,
“And give to him my little day,
“When low this golden form shall fall
“That dust shall hear his genial call,
“To thee, my gracious power, to thee
“Thy goodness gave that life to be;
“Ah me! one moment from thy sight
“The God of glory sets in night;
Sore grieved the flower, and drooped her head;
Consenting tears the sisters shed,
With joy, with pious pride elate,
“An emblem of that happier fate
“Our hearts no fears but duteous fears, “No charm but duty's charm can move; “We shed no tears but holy tears
“Of tender penitence and love.
“See there the envious world pourtrayed “In that dark look, that creeping pace: “No flower can bear the Ivy's shade;
“No tree support its cold embrace.
“The oak that rears it from the ground,
“Feels at his heart the rankling wound,
Her moral thus the matron read,
And they by love, or duty led,
Yet one less duteous, not less fair,
But found a moral of her own.
The flower that smiled along the day, And droop'd in tears at evening's fall; Too well she found her life display,
Too well her fatal lot recall.
The treacherous Ivy's gloomy shade,
Too well that cruel scene conveyed