But at the last obtayned, no labor is forlorne.”
The pretty song from Love’s Labours Lost (act iv. sc. 3, l. 97, vol. ii. p. 144), alludes to the thorny rose,—
“On a day—alack the day!
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind.
All unseen, can passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish himself the heaven’s breath.