b> 
a | 
THE ROSE OF MAY. 
But, lithe and tall, the rose of May 
Shoots upward through the ruin grey, 
With scented flower, and leaf pale-green, 
Such rose as it hath ever been; 
Left, like a noble deed, to grace 
The memory of an ancient race ! 
What exact species of rose this is I do not 
know; it appears not to be approved of in 
modern gardens,—at least if it be, it is so much 
altered by cultivation as to have lost much of 
its primitive character. I saw it in three dif- 
ferent situations in Nottinghamshire. In the 
small remains of gardens and old labyrinthine 
shrubbery at Awthorpe Hall,—which, when we 
were there, had just been taken down, — the 
residence of the good Colonel John Hutchinson 
and his sweet wife Lucy ;—in the very gardens 
which, as she relates in his life, he laid out and 
took so much pleasure in. It was growing also, 
with tall shoots and abundance of flowers, in 
the most forlorn of gardens, at an old place 
D 
