S. Baring-Gould, In exitu Israel (1870)
“ Oh, madame! do you know the Alpine rose? Dear Gabrielle, you must come with me, if only to see that! Think, up among the mountains a patch of grey rock, and above it a bush blazing with crimson flowers, and they are sometimes red as blood, and sometimes pale pink like your own sweet cheek—but not as it is now, it has grown red. Then the leaves are glossy green, like the myrtle, and underneath a russet-brown, the colour of the shaggy goats. ”
