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Vermillion roses, that with new clayes rise. 
Display your crimson folds, fresh looking faire, 
Whose radiant bright disgraces 
The rich adorned rayes of roseate rising morne! 
Ah! if her virgin’s hand 
Do pluck your purse ere Phcebus view the land. 
And vaile your gracious pompe in lovely nature’s scorne; 
If chance my mistresse traces 
Fast by your flowres to take the Sommer’s ayre, 
Then wofull blushing, tempt her glorious eyes 
To spread their teares, Adonis’ death reporting, 
And tell Love’s torments, sorrowing for her friend, 
W'hose drops of blood, within your leaves consorting, 
Report fair Venus’ moanes to have no end 5 
Then luay remorse, in pittying of my smart, 
Drie up my teares, and dwell within her heart. 
Herrick, in one of his many complimentary fancies, thus 
accounts for the Rose’s change of colour, and the thought seems 
to have become public property since his day, for we find it 
versified in divers manners by bards of all degrees— 
Roses at first were white. 
Till they could not agree 
Whether my Sappho’s breast 
Or they more white should be. 
But, being vanquished quite, 
A blush their cheeks bespread; 
Since which, believe the rest, 
I’he roses first came red. 
Being dedicated to the goddess of beauty and god of love, 
ihe Rose often plays her ])art in the tender and sentimental 
