Like to Diana in her summer-weed, Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye, Goes fair Samela; Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed When wash'd by Arethusa Fount they lie, Is fair Samela.
The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.walter scott
The garden lies, A league of grass, wash'd by a slow broad stream.
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