Forget Me Not/1824/The Rose

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ΤΟ

THE ROSE.

From the Spanish of Don Francisco de Rioja.

BY J. H. WIFFEN, ESQ.

1.Warm rival of the flame that dyesThe heavens, where morning takes its birth,Pure, glowing Rose! how canst thou riseSo fresh with joy, so full of mirth—Whilst conscious that thy gifted charmsPass swift as summer's transient gale,That neither can thy prickly arms,Nor purple beauty aught avail,An hour—an instant to delayThe killing stroke of quick decay?
2.The full-blown heart, the smiling cheek,That looks so happy, breathes so sweet,I fear, already, whilst I speak,Will wither in the ardent heat.For all the perfumed leaves that gladThy heart, Love paid a purple pinionFrom his rich wings; how sweet, yet sadAn image of his dear dominion!The passions blossom, charm, and bowTo death, almost as soon as thou.
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3.He bathed thee in his own rich hue,The blood divine of Beauty, sheWho, naked, pure, and rosy, drewHer being from the frothy sea;But this, oh this, voluptuous flower!Can ne'er abate the searching ray;That flame licentious, in an hour,Thy bloom of beauty steals away,Rifling thy bosom to its core,Which, once expanded, shuts no more!
4.Fast pale thy burning wings, fast curlThy leaves,—the blithe bee, murmuring round,Strikes them, and, one by one, they whirl,Decayed and scentless, to the ground.So closely joined thy life appearsWith thy decay, that scarce I knowIf sad Aurora, in the tearsShe weeps for thee, would wish to showGrief for thy birth or for thy death,Sweet creature of celestial breath!
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