‘Chamaedaphne Buxb.’ or ‘Erica palustris pendula, fl. petiolo purp.’ [Bog Rosemary] was at the height of her beauty and adorned the bogs with her splendour. I noticed that before she opens she is as red as blood but, when she flowers, the petals become flesh-pink. I doubt whether any painter could put such comeliness into a maiden’s portrait or adorn her cheeks with such beauty. There is no rouge that yet can match it. When I saw her I thought of Andromeda as the poets portray her.3 The more I thought, the more she seemed to accord with this plant, so that if a poet had set himself the task of describing her enchanting nature there could have been no better likeness. Andromeda is described as being an extraordinary maiden, as a woman whose cheeks attain great beauty. It is a beauty she only retains as long as she is a maiden (as also happens with women) – that is, until she has conceived, which will not be long now as she is already a bride. Standing on a tussock surrounded by water in a wet bog, she is chained as if on a rock in the sea. The water reaches her knees, that is to say, above the roots. She is forever surrounded by poisonous dragons and animals, that is, nasty toads and frogs that blow water on her in spring when they mate. She stands and bows her head in sorrow. Her head of flowers with its rosy cheeks bends low, her cheeks grow ever paler; her head becomes ever paler, and so I named her Andromeda, with the pointed leaves. She is half lying, her neck is bare, so I called her flesh-coloured.