
LOVE. 
MYRTLE. 
See, rooted in the earth, her kindly bed, 
The unendangered myrtle, decked with flowers, 
Before the threshold stands to welcome us ! 
WORDSWORTH. 
Tue oak has ever been consecrated to Ju- 
piter,—the laurel to Apollo,—the olive to 
Minerva,—and the myrtle to Venus. Among 
the ancients the myrtle was a great favourite, 
for its elegance, and its sweet and glossy ever- 
green foliage. Its perfumed and delicate flowers 
seem destined to adorn the fair forehead of 
love, and are said to have been made the emblem 
of love, and dedicated to beauty, when Venus 
first sprang from the sea. We are informed by 
mythological writers that when the fair goddess 
first appeared upon the waves, she was preceded 
by the houris with a scarf of a thousand colours, 
and a garland of myrtle. 
Wordsworth appropriates myrtle wreaths to 
youthful heads, and conjures them to drop 
from those of declining years, 
Fall, rosy garlands, from my head! 
Ye myrtle wreaths, your fragrance shed 
Around a younger brow ! 
Nueces 






















