42 
The Rose. 
tomb, over which the love-lorn nightingale poured forth his 
plaintive notes: 
“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 its stem; in vain— 
To-morrow sees it bloom again! . .. . 
To it the livelong night there sings 
A bird unseen, but not remote: 
Invisible his airy wings, 
But soft as harp that Houri strings 
His long entrancing note.” 
Syria is thought by Richardson to have derived its name 
from suri, a beautiful and delicate species of rose for which 
the country has been celebrated from time immemorial; hence 
its Oriental name, Suristan, the Land of Roses. There, as Byron 
sings in the “ Giaour,” is 
“ The rose, o’er crag or vale, 
Sultana of the nightingale, 
The maid for whom his melody, 
His thousand songs, are heard on high. 
Blooms blushing to her lover’s tale: 
His queen, the garden queen, his rose, 
Unbent by winds, unchill’d by snows, 
Far from the winters of the west, 
By every breeze and season blest, 
Returns the sweets by nature given 
In softest incense back to heaven. ” 
The violet is very highly prized in the East; but, says Hafiz, 
“ When the rose enters the garden, even the violet prostrates 
itself before it with its face to the ground.” 
But Persian legends of and allusions to the queen of flowers 
are innumerable, and still many blossoms nearer home await 
our culling. One of the most memorable plants in existence 
is the renowned rose-tree of Hildersheim, said to have been 
set by Charlemagne, in commemoration of a visit of respect 
paid to him by the ambassador of the celebrated Caliph Haroun 
Alraschid; and who, as a symbol of his authority, carried a 
purple banner, on which were embroidered the arms of his 
sovereign, being roses on a golden field. The wonderful legend 
