Scented Quote of the Day, From John Dyer:

 

 "How erring oft the judgment in its hate

Or fond desire!  Those slow-descending showers,

Those hovering fogs, that bathe our growing vales...    

 

 In deep November (loath'd by trifling Gaul,

Effeminate ), are gifts the Pleiads shed,

Britannia's handmaids : as the beverage falls

 

Her hills rejoice, her valleys laugh and sing.

 

Hail, noble Albion! Where no golden mines,

No soft perfumes, nor oils, nor myrtle bowers.

 

in The Fleece by John Dyer (1699-1757)