The storied urn may be crumbled to dust, And Time may the marble bust deface; But thou wilt be faithful and firm to thy trust, The memorial flower of a princely race. THE WILD GARLAND. The Orange Flower. Citrus Aurantium. Class Polydelphia. Order Polyandria. THE delicious fragrance and pure beauty of these flowers, contrasting with their polished foliage, and gracing the tree at the same time with green and with orange fruit of the preceding year, render it one of the most elegant of plants. Originally the native of the East, it has been successfully naturalized in the West Indies, the African Islands, and the South of Europe. Evelyn relates that the first China Orange introduced into Europe, was sent as a present to the old Conde Mellor, then Prime Minister to the King of Portugal; and that of the whole case that arrived at Lisbon, only one plant survived, and became the parent of all those flourishing trees since cultivated by gardeners. Mr. Evelyn received this account from the son and successor of the Conde, whom he knew when an exile at the English court. L' ALMA, verde, odorata e vaga pianta THE ORANGE. So where the silent streams of Liris glide, Cold with perpetual snows; The tender blighted plant shrinks up its leaves, and dies. LORD LITTELTON'S MONODY. BENEATH Some Orange-trees, Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze Were wantoning together, free, Like age at play with infancy. MOORE. Oн, County Guy, the hour is nigh The Orange flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea; The lark, his lay who trilled all day, Sits hushed his partner by ; Breeze, bird, and flower, they know the hour But where is County Guy? AN ORANGE TREE. SIR W. SCOTT. SWEET is the vernal rose, And sweet, at daylight's close, The silver lily blows, Filling with fragrant breath the dewy vale. They flourish and decay : They bloom, and blooming fade; Leaf after leaf fades, falls, and dies away. Thy morning, like thy day, Beholds thee gifted with perpetual growth, Thee, child and mother both : And every season sweet, Spring, summer, autumn, not in slow advance, W. SOTHEBY. |