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96 Flowers, the ole luxury which nature knew, In Eden's pure and guiltles garden grew. To loftier forms are rougher taks aign'd; The heltering oak reits the tormy wind, The tougher yew repels invading foes, And the tall pine for future navies grows; But this oft family, to cares unknown, Were born for pleaure and delight alone. Gay without toil, and lovely without art, They pring to cheer the ene, and glad the heart. Nor bluh, my fair, to own you copy thee; Your bet, your weetet empire is—to pleae. ODE