"Say, why forbidden thorn? the foe replied:
"To every reptile, every insect free,
"Has malice harsh to thee alone denied
"The fragrance of the rose enjoy'd by me? "
"— 'Twas love, not malice, form'd the kind decree,
Half-wroth, she cried:) "Thine all these buskets are,
"Thine fruit and flow'r, were Cupid's words to me:
"But oh? I charge thee, love, the rose forbear;
"For prickles sharp do arm the dang'rous rosiere.