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62  And roseate teints are ever seen To bloom the cheeks of beauty's queen. Its power to sooth the pangs of pain Physicians try, nor try in vain; And e'en when life and hope are fled Its deathless scent embalms the dead: For, though its withering charms decay, And, one by one, all fade away, Its grateful smell the rose retains, And redolent of youth remains. But, lyrist, let it next be sung From whence this precious treasure sprung— When first from ocean's dewy spray Fair Venus rose to upper day; When, fearful to the powers above, The armed Pallas sprung from Jove; 'Twas then they say the jealous earth First gave the lovely stranger birth. A drop of pure nectareous dew From heaven the bless'd immortals threw; A while it trembled on the thorn, And then the lovely rose was born. To Bacchus they the flower assign, And roses still his brows intwine.

I view the youthful throng, Fancy whispers I am young! To the merry dance I fly, Who so gay, so brisk as I? Haste, Cybele, bring me flowers, Bring sweet roses from the bowers;