ROSE. 
109 
With nectar drops, a ruby tide, 
The sweetly orient buds they dyed, 
And bade them bloom, the flowers divine 
Of him who sheds the teeming: vine; 
And bade them on the spangled thorn 
Expand then - bosoms to the morn. 
According to ancient Fable, tbe red colour of 
the Rose may be traced to Venus, whose delicate 
foot, when she was hastening to the relief of 
her beloved Adonis, was pierced by a thorn, 
that drew blood, 
Which on the White Rose being shed 
Made it for ever after red. 
Herrick. 
Its beautiful tint is traced to another source 
by a modern poet: 
As erst, in Eden’s blissful bowers, 
Young Eve survey’d her countless flowers, 
An opening Rose of purest white 
She mark’d with eye that beam’d delight, 
Its leaves she kiss’d, and straight it drew 
From beauty’s lip the vermeil hue. 
Carey. 
The origin of that exquisitely beautiful va¬ 
riety, the Moss Rose, is thus fancifully accounted 
for: 
The Angel of the Flowers, one day, 
Beneath a Rose Tree sleeping lay, 
L 
