ROSE, Hundred leaved. 

 Rosa centifolia. 



Pride, I will instruct my sorrow to be proud, 



For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. Stiaks. 



Answer. 

 Yet less of sorrow than of pride was there. . Byron. 



Rejoinder. 



Ah ! little will the lip reveal 



Of all the burning heart can feel L. E, L. 



How much of pride, that never eye 



May look upon its agony same. 



ROSE, Maidens' Blush. If you do love me, I do betray myself with blushing ! .... Shaks. 



you will Jind me out. 

 Rosa rubor virginea. Confusion thrill'd me then, and secret joy, 



Fast throbbing, stole its treasures from my heart, 

 And mantling upward, turn'd my face to crimson. 



Brooke's Gustavus Vasa. 



I blush to think what I have said 



But fate has wrested the confession from me. 



Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour : 



Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee, 



And make the gods propitious to our love. . Addison. 



And yet, what need I blush at such a choice ? 



I love a man whom I am proud to love. . . Dryden. 



ROSE, Moss, full blown. Superior merit. Behold the first in virtue, as in face ! 



In praise so just, let every voice be raised. . . 



Rosa muscosa. 



Oh ! what perfections must that virgin share, 



Who fairest is esteem'd, where all are fair ! . Prior. 



The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex : 



True she is fair oh, how divinely fair ! 



But still the lovely maid improves her charms 



With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom, 



And sanctity of manners. Cato's soul 



Shines out in every thing she acts and speaks ; 



While winning mildness and attractive smiles 



Dwell in her looks. Addison. 



She is one 



For whom a life were a small sacrifice, 

 Aye, to be deemed as nothing ! 



. S.P.C. 



How could my tongue 

 Take pleasure, and be lavish in thy praise ! 



