Descend, ye hovering Sylphs! aerial Quires,
        And sweep with little hands your silver lyres;
        With fairy footsteps print your grassy rings,
        Ye Gnomes! accordant to the tinkling strings;
5 While in soft notes I tune to oaten reed
        Gay hopes, and amorous sorrows of the mead.—­
        From giant Oaks, that wave their branches dark,
        To the dwarf Moss, that clings upon their bark,
        What Beaux and Beauties crowd the gaudy groves,
10 And woo and win their vegetable Loves. 
        How Snowdrops cold, and blue-eyed Harebels blend
        Their tender tears, as o’er the stream they bend;
        The lovesick Violet, and the Primrose pale
        Bow their sweet heads, and whisper to the gale;
15 With secret sighs the Virgin Lily droops,
        And jealous Cowslips hang their tawny cups. 
        How the young Rose in beauty’s damask pride
        Drinks the warm blushes of his bashful bride;
        With honey’d lips enamour’d Woodbines meet,
20 Clasp with fond arms, and mix their kisses sweet.—­

        Stay thy soft-murmuring waters, gentle Rill;
        Hush, whispering Winds, ye ruflling Leaves, be still;
        Rest, silver Butterflies, your quivering wings;
        Alight, ye Beetles, from your airy rings;

[Vegetable Loves. l. 10.  Linneus, the celebrated Swedish naturalist, has demonstrated, that ail flowers contain families of males or females, or both; and on their marriages has constructed his invaluable system of Botany.]

25 Ye painted Moths, your gold-eyed plumage furl,
        Bow your wide horns, your spiral trunks uncurl;
        Glitter, ye Glow-worms, on your mossy beds;
        Descend, ye Spiders, on your lengthen’d threads;
        Slide here, ye horned Snails, with varnish’d shells;
30 Ye Bee-nymphs, listen in your waxen cells!—­

        BOTANIC MUSE! who in this latter age
        Led by your airy hand the Swedish sage,
        Bad his keen eye your secret haunts explore
        On dewy dell, high wood, and winding shore;
35 Say on each leaf how tiny Graces dwell;
        How laugh the Pleasures in a blossom’s bell;
        How insect Loves arise on cobweb wings,
        Aim their light shafts, and point their little stings.

First the tall CANNA lifts his curled brow
40 Erect to heaven, and plights his nuptial vow;

[Canna. l. 39.  Cane, or Indian Reed.  One male and one female inhabit each flower.  It is brought from between the tropics to our hot-houses, and bears a beautiful crimson flower; the seeds are used as shot by the Indians, and are strung for prayer-beads in some catholic countries.]

        The virtuous pair, in milder regions born,
        Dread the rude blast of Autumn’s icy morn;
        Round the chill fair he folds his crimson vest,
        And clasps the timorous beauty to his breast.