an amaranth planted in a garden near a rose-tree, thus addressed it: “what a lovely flower is the rose, a favorite alike with gods and with men. i envy you your beauty and your perfume.” the rose replied, “i indeed, dear amaranth, flourish but for a brief season! if no cruel hand pluck me from my stem, yet i must perish by an early doom. but thou art immortal and dost never fade, but bloomest for ever in renewed youth.”