ROSE. 163 



Sa robe de pourpre au soleil, 

 N'a point perdu cette vespree, 

 Les plis de sa robe pourpree 

 Et son teint au votre pareil. v 

 Las ! voyez comme un peu d'espace, 

 Mignonne, elle a, dessus la place, 

 Las ! las ! ses beautes laisse choir ! 

 Oh ! vraiment, maratre nature, 

 Puisqu* une telle fleur ne dure 

 Que du matin jusques au soir, 

 Done si vous me croyez, mignonne, 

 Tandis que votre age fleuronne 

 En sa plus verte nouveaute, 

 Cueillez, cueillez votre jeunesse ; * 

 Comme a cette fleur la vieillesse 

 Fera ternir votre beaute." 



Bayle relates an accident which happened 

 at the baptism of Ronsard. In those days 

 it was customary to bring large vases full of 

 rose-water, and baskets of flowers to christen- 

 ings ; and as the nurse was going to church 

 with the infant bard she let her flowers fall, 

 and in turning to recover them, she touched 

 the attendant who carried the vase of rose- 

 water, and spilt it on the child; and this, 

 says Bayle, was since regarded as a happy 



* This idea recalls to recollection the lines of Waller : 

 Song to a Rose. 

 " Tell her that's young 



And shuns to have her graces spy'd, 

 That hadst thou sprung 

 In deserts where no men abide, 

 Thou must have uncommended died." 



M 2 



