The envious shrub with some regret,
Saw all her friends in wedlock met;
Up the tall Elm the Woodbine swarms,
And twines her marriageable arms;
A gorgeous bower the Jess'mine chose,
The glory of some ancient house;
With joy she views the short-liv'd maid,
The Violet, drooping in the shade;
And sees (which pleas'd her to the quick)
The Lilly hug a sapless stick.
"And must Myrtilla still be seen
"Pining in sickness ever-green?
"Shall she" —
With that she arm'd her brow,
Which once had conquests gain'd, but now —
Too old to choose, too proud to sue,
Strikes flag to her good cousin Yew.