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letra de henry james pye - the myrtle and the bramble, a fable - ghizela rowe

luxuriant with perennial green
a myrtle young and lovely stood
sole beauty of the wintry scene
the fairest daughter of the wood:
close by her side a bramble grew
like other brambles rude with th-rn
who sicken’d at the pleasing view
yet what she envied seem’d to scorn:
full oft to blast each hated charm
she call’d the fiery bolts of jove;
but jove was too polite to harm
aught sacred to the queen of love:
yet was her rage not wholly cross’d
boreas was to her wishes kind
and from his magazines of frost
he summon’d forth the keenest wind
a thousand clouds surcharg’d with rain
the ruffian god around him calls;
then blows intense, and o’er the plain
a fleecy deluge instant falls:
no more the myrtle bears the belle
no more her leaves luxuriant shew
the th-rny bramble looks as well
powder’d, and perriwig’d with snow
sure some gray antiquated maid
the very bramble of her s-x
to each invidious power has pray’d
our eyes and senses to perplex
fashion with more than boreas’ rage
a universal snow has shed
and given the h–ry tint of age
to every lovely female’s head
o break thy rival’s hated spell
kind nature! that where’er we ramble
thy work from courtoi’s we may tell
and know a myrtle from a bramble

- ghizela rowe

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