Courted by Cupids, and the amorous air,
Upon a shady throne, at her repose,
She sate, than whom, none e'er so sweet or fair:
It was the Queen of Flowers, the blushing rose.
With no less pride, upon his bed of state,
A Lily, pale with envy, look'd that way;
With humble flowers, encompa**'d round he sate,
And scorn'd the sceptre at her feet to lay.
To arms, with thorns and prickles, they prepare
And each designs to try it out by war;
Till on good counsel, they in rule combine:
So in your face, the lovely White and Red,
Cynthia, I see all quarrels banishéd,
And Rose and Lily do in empire join.