Ou the Rose. 293 



which, falling" on the rose, gave it that exquisitely breathed 

 perfume, for which it will ever stand pre-eminent among^ 

 flowers. Anacreon writes : — 



" And whon at lengtli with pale decline 

 Its florid beauties lade and pine, 

 Sweet as in youth its balmy breath 

 Diffuses odors e'en in death !" 



" And first of all the Rose; because its breath 

 Is rich beyond the rest; and when it dies, 

 It doth bequeath a charm to sweeten death." 



Barry Cornwall. 



It was a custom among- the Romans to bless the Rose; and 

 it is said to be still preserved, and the day dedicated to the 

 purpose, termed Dominica in rosa. 



In Persia that imaginary " Eden," where the rose is seen 

 in the greatest perfection, a festival is held which is denom- 

 inated the feast of Roses : it lasts during the time that they 

 remain in flower. This is beautifully described by Moore, in 

 Lalla Rookh ; but as these remarks have extended already 

 too far, I leave the history of the Rose with the following 

 exquisite verses by Lord Byron, in which he makes this 

 "flower of flowers" flourish over the tomb of Zuleika. 



"A single rose is shedding there 



Its lonely lustre meek and pale : 

 It looks as planted by despair — 



So white, so faint, — the slightest gale 

 Might whirl the leaves on high ; 



And yet though storms and blight assail 

 And hands more rude than wintry sky 



May wring it from the stem — in vain — 



To-morrow sees it bloom again ! 

 The stalk some spirit gently rears, 

 And waters with celestial tears : 



For well may maids of Helle deem 

 That this can be no earthly flower. 

 Which mocks the tempests's withering hour, 

 And buds unsheltered by a bower ; 

 Nor droops, though spring refuse the shower, 



Nor wooes the summer beam." 



To the mere cultivator of plants, such accounts of the 

 history of some of the most beautiful, however so much of 

 interest they may have, will, perhaps, prove tedious, and alto- 

 gether undeserving a place in a practical work. But will the 

 intelligent gardener look no higher than the mere daily rou- 

 tine of his profession ? will he never strive to know the ori- 

 gin, the history, or the vise of the plants he daily, monthly 

 and yearly cultivates ? over which he spends time, and care, 

 anxiety and often, almost painful anticipations ? Will he 

 pass the modest violet, or tread carelessly on its drooping 



