THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
41 
For rosy-fingered is the morn 
With which the crimson veil is drawn. 
The lovely nymphs we always deck 
With rosy arms and rosy neck ; 
And roseate tints are ever seen 
To bloom the cheeks of beauty’s queen. 
Its power to soothe the pangs of pain 
Physicians try, nor try in vain; 
And e’en when life and hope are fled, 
Its deathless scent embalms the dead; 
For though its withering charms decay, 
And one by one all fade away, 
Its grateful smell the rose retains, 
And redolent of youth remains. 
But, lyrist, let it next be sung 
From whence this precious treasure sprung. 
When first from ocean’s dewy spray 
Fair Venus rose to upper day,— 
When, fearful to the powers above, 
The armed Pallas sprung from Jove,— 
’Twas then, they say, the jealous earth 
First gave the lovely stranger birth. 
A drop of pure nectareous dew 
From heaven the blest immortals threw; 
A while it trembled on the thorn, 
And then the lovely rose was born. 
To Bacchus they the flower assign, 
And roses still his brows entwine.” 
Tasso gives us an exquisite description of the rose. 
“ Deh mira, egli canto, spuntar la rosa 
Dal verde suo modesta e verginella, 
Che mezzo aperta ancora e mezzo ascosa, 
Quanto si mostra men, tanto h piii bella, 
Ecco poi nudo il sen gia baldanzosa 
Dispiega, ecco poi langue, e non par quella, 
Quell a non par, che desiata avanti 
Fu da mille donzelle e mille amanti. 
“ Cosi trapassa al trapassar d’un giorno 
Della vita mortale il fiore e’l verde.” 
Ger. Lib., Canto XVI. 
And Ariosto tells us, — 
“ La verginella e simile alia rosa 
Ch’ in bel giardin su la nativa spina 
Mentre sola e sicura si riposa, 
N& grcgge ne pastor se le avvicina: 
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