re, "she made her prayers to our Lord that He would help
her, as she was not guilty of that sin;" whereupon the fire was suddenly
quenched, and the burning brands became red "roseres," and the brands
that were not kindled became white "roseres" full of roses. "And these
were the first roseres and roses, both white and red, that ever any man
soughte." Henceforth, says Mr. King,[3] the rose became the flower of
martyrs. "It was a basket full of roses that the martyr Saint Dorothea
sent to the notary of Theophilus from the garden of Paradise; and roses,
says the romance, sprang up all over the field of Ronce-vaux, where
Roland and the douze pairs had stained the soil with their blood."

The colour of the rose has been explained by various legends, the Turks
attributing its red colour to the blood of Mohammed. Herrick, referring
to one of the old classic stories of its divine origin, writes:--

"Tis said, as Cupid danced among the gods, he down the
nectar flung,
Which, on the white rose being shed, made it for ever after red."

A pretty origin has been assigned to the moss-rose (_Rosa muscosa_):--
"The angel who takes care of flowers, and sprinkles upon them the dew in
the still night, slumbered on a spring day in the shade of a rosebush,
and when she awoke she said, 'Most beautiful of my children, I thank
thee for thy refreshing odour and cooling shade; could you now ask any
favour, how willingly would I grant it!' 'Adorn me then with a new
charm,' said the spirit of the rose-bush; and the angel adorned the
loveliest of flowers with the simple moss."

A further Roumanian legend gives another poetic account of the rose's
origin. "It is early morning, and a young princess comes down into her
garden to bathe in the silver waves of the sea. The transparent
whiteness of her complexion is seen through the slight veil which covers
it, and shines through the blue waves like the morning star in the azure
sky. She springs into the sea, and mingles with the silvery rays of the
sun, which sparkle on the dimples of the laughing waves. The sun stands
still to gaze upon her; he covers her with kisses, and forgets his duty.
Once, twice, thrice has the night advanced to take her sceptre and reign
over the world; twice had she found the sun upon her way. Since that day
the lord of the universe has changed the princess into a rose; and this
is why the rose always hangs her head and blushes when the sun gazes on
her." There are a varie