I.

A Week's long absence had Liberia kept,
From those blest floors, which us'd her feet to kiss:
Returning, she, to view the garden, stept,
The garden, which was half Liberia 's bliss.

II.

There, while descending, 'twixt the terras walls,
She saw a sun-flow'r hang its wither'd head;
To Philip , loud, the wond'ring charmer calls,
Tell me, ah, me! how came this sun-flow'r dead?

III.

I know not, Madam, the prompt servant cry'd;
But, for this fortnight past, it strangely pin'd!
I've water'd it, in vain, and all arts try'd;
'Twas, surely, blasted, by some hurtful wind!

IV.

Alas poor faded sun-flow'r! answer'd she,
And her fair fingers to the stalk directs;
Strait, from behind the leaves, out flies a bee ,
And, humming round her, buzz'd its due respects.

V.

Bright maid! it said, disdain not, tho' I'm small,
To be instructed, in your doubts, by me :
That old wasp , whom the god of love you call,
Is wing'd , and sting'd , and little, like a bee .

VI.

Your pity seeks the mournful cause to know,
Why this departed flow'r, thus, hangs its head;
Since Philip can't, Oh! give me leave, to show,
The unguess'd accident, by which its dead.

VII.

Some ten days since, when bolting from your door,
On this ill-fated spot you fix'd your foot;
This ugly flow'r you cry'd, I can't endure;
And, strait cold grief shot, tingling, to its root.

VIII.

Since, then, each hapless hour, in swift decay,
Has, more and more consum'd the with'ring stalk,
And I, alas! must, now, be driv'n away,
To seek chance honey, in some less-lov'd walk.

IX.

But, let me, fair destroyer! e'er I go,
One gentle caution, to your beauty, give,
Since what you disapprove, must perish so,
Ah! watch your words! and let the captain live.