SILVIA and the BEE. Mary Leapor Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T127827 p. 413 K101776.000 Leapor, Mrs. (Mary), 1722-1746. Poems upon several occasions: By Mrs. Leapor of Brackley in Northamptonshire. London printed: and sold by J. Roberts 1748 pp. 270-273. 15,[5],282p. ; 8⁰.

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SILVIA and the BEE . AS Silvia in her Garden stray'd , Where each officious Rose , To welcome the approaching Maid , With fairer Beauty glows . Transported from their dewy Beds , The new blown Lilies rise : Gay Tulips wave their shining Heads , To please her brighter Eyes . A Bee that sought the sweetest Flow'r , To this fair Quarter came : Soft humming round the fatal Bow'r , That held the smiling Dame . He search'd the op'ning Buds with Care , And flew from Tree to Tree : But Silvia ( finding none so fair ) Unwisely fix'd on thee . Her Hand obedient to her Thought , The River did destroy ; And the slain Insect dearly bought Its momentary Joy . But now too rash unthinking Maid , Consider what you've done ; Perhaps you in the Dust have laid A fair and hopeful Son . Or from his Friends and Senate wise Have swept a valu'd Peer ; Whose life , that you so lightly prize , Was to his Country dear , Then , Silvia , cease your Anger now , To this your guiltless Foe ; And smooth again that gentle Brow , Where lasting Lilies blow . Soft Cynthio vows when you depart , The Sun withdraws its Ray , That Nature trembles like his Heart , And Storms eclipse the Day . Amintor swears a Morning Sun's Less brilliant than your Eyes ; And tho' his Tongue at random runs , You seldom think he lyes . They tell you , those soft Lips may vie With Pinks at op'ning Day ; And yet you slew a simple Fly , For proving what they say . Believe me , not a Bud like thee In this fair Garden blows ; Then blame no more the erring Bee , Who took you for the Rose .