But who is this, what thing of sea or land,—

Female of sex it seems,—

That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay,

Comes this way sailing

Like a stately ship

Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles

Of Javan or Gadire,

With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,

Sails fill'd, and streamers waving,

Courted by all the winds that hold them play,

An amber scent of odorous perfume

Her harbinger?

John Milton (1608-1674): Samson Agonistes. Line 710.

You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): Farewell! But whenever you welcome the Hour.

Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys,

Unfriendly to society's chief joys:

Thy worst effect is banishing for hours

The sex whose presence civilizes ours.

William Cowper (1731-1800): Conversation. Line 251.

But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;

Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,

My custom always of the afternoon.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5.

Nature, exerting an unwearied power,

Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower;

Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads

The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads.

William Cowper (1731-1800): Table Talk. Line 690.