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LOVE. 
And Hartley Coleridge, in a paraphrase on 
Horace, thus introduces the myrtle as a fit 
decoration for the brow of youth: 
Nay, nay, my boy — ’tis not for me, 
This studious pomp of eastern luxury; 
Give me no various garlands, — fine 
With linden twine; 
Nor seek, when latest lingering blows 
The solitary rose. 
Earnest I beg — add not with toilsome pain, — 
One far sought blossom to the myrtle plain, 
For sure, the fragrant myrtle bough 
Looks seemliest on thy brow; 
Nor me mis-seems, while, underneath the vine, 
Close interweaved, I quaff the rosy wine. 
At Rome, • the first temple dedicated to 
Venus was surrounded by groves of myrtle ; 
and after the victory that goddess achieved 
over Pallas and Juno, she was crowned with 
myrtle by Cupids. Surprised one day, on 
going out of a bath, by a troop of satyrs, she 
took refuge behind a myrtle bush ; she also 
avenged herself with myrtle branches on the 
audacious Psyche, who had dared to compare 
her own transitory graces to those of an im¬ 
mortal beauty. 
Although triumphs are no longer cele¬ 
brated in the Roman capitol, the Italian la¬ 
dies have preserved a very lively passion for 
this lovely shrub ; preferring its odour to that 
of the most precious essences, and throwing 
into their baths water distilled from its leaves, 
