Yet ’twixt their stocks wild feuds subsist, To work them lasting woe; Whilst each of other still complain’d, And strove her overthrow.
“Shame, said the RED, on that pale hue, “Which speaks the wearer’s heart; “That, void of virtue as of grace, “No colour can impart.
“Unlike the blushes that adorn “My flow’r with colour meet, “AURORA’S, when she wakes the day, “Appear not half so sweet.”
“Nay! Shame on thee, the White reply’d, “Whose blush by _guilt_ was giv’n: “Ev’n by the blood of VENUS shed, “Our patroness in Heav’n[11].
“Till then like me all Roses were, “Whose ancient stock I claim; “And, void of crime, still reprobate “Their colour with their name.”
“This and much more she angry said: “But JOVE’S immortal flow’r[12] “Their ill-meant conversation broke, “With soft, persuasive pow’r.
[11] According to the old Fable, the Rose was at first always white, till Venus, while she was pursuing Adonis, scratched herself with its thorns, and thereby stained it with her cœlestial blood.
“Forbear, she cry’d, in haughty guise, “Reproachful to contend: “Whoe’er the victrix, small her gain, “That thus can lose a friend.
“Ally’d by Nature in your kind, “And diff’ring but in Hue: “You both possess intrinsic worth, “And outward beauty too.
“Long was the strife your[13] ancient state, “In this our isle pursu’d; “Which many a year drench’d either Rose, “In seas of kindred blood.
“Oh! may no more such horrors rise, “Within our Garden’s pale: “But all with emulation strive, “That concord may prevail!
[13] Alluding to the Civil Wars of York and Lancaster, in which the White Rose and the Red were adopted as tokens or devices by their different partisans.
“May civil feuds and ranc’rous hate “From hence be banish’d far; “Foul is that strife, where friends contest, “And wage inhuman war.
“Then to this solemn truth give ear; “_Where trifles thus are priz’d,_ “_If two for victory contend;_ “_They both will be despis’d_.”
[Illustration: _Fab. VIII. Anemone & Passion Flower_]
“Say, beauteous flow’r, whose burnish’d leaves “With Spring’s own livery glow: “In these bleak months, why dost thou chuse “T’ adorn a waste of snow?
“Say, dost thou grudge to summer-skies, “That bloom divinely bright: “Or, are thy beauties clearer seen, “Through this thin Robe of White?