Shall that bright flower the countless ages toiled
And travailed to bring forth--shall that rare rose,
Whose bloom and fragrance earth and heaven unclose
Their treasuries to enrich, by d**h be foiled?
Its matchless splendour trampled down and spoiled?
Shall that Celestial Love--who watched its throes
Through centuries of long struggles and of woes,
And freed it from the old Serpent round it coiled;
Who tended it, and reared its glorious head
Above the brambles and the poisonous marsh,
And shielded it when zones were cased in ice--
Leave it to perish when the summons harsh
Of d**h is rung,--or, ere its leaves are shed,
Transplant it to his realm of Paradise?