Barry Cornwall
I take a second supply of flowers from the same hand
Here, this rose(This one half blown) shall be my Maia's portion,For that like it her blush is beautifulAnd this deep violet, almost as blueAs Pallas' eye, or thine, Lycemnia,I'll give to thee for like thyself it wearsIts sweetness, never obtruding. For this lilyWhere can it hang but it Cyane's breast?And yet twill wither on so white a bed,If flowers have sense of envy.--It shall beAmongst thy raven tresses, Cytheris,Like one star on the bosom of the nightThe cowslip and the yellow primrose,--theyAre gone, my sad Leontia, to their graves,And April hath wept o'er them, and the voiceOf March hath sung, even before their deathsThe dirge of those young children of the yearBut here is hearts ease for your woes. And now,The honey suckle flower I give to thee,And love it for my sake, my own CyaneIt hangs upon the stem it loves, as thouHast clung to me, through every joy and sorrow,It flourishes with its guardian growth, as thou dost,And if the woodman's axe should droop the tree,The woodbine too must perish.
Barry Cornwall
Let me add to the above heap of floral beauty a basket of flowers from Leigh Hunt.
Then the flowers on all their beds--How the sparklers glance their heads,Daisies with their pinky lashesAnd the marigolds broad flashes,Hyacinth with sapphire bellCurling backward, and the swellOf the rose, full lipped and warm,Bound about whose riper formHer slender virgin train are seenIn their close fit caps of green,Lilacs then, and daffodillies,And the nice leaved lesser liliesShading, like detected light,Their little green-tipt lamps of white;Blissful poppy, odorous pea,With its wing up lightsomely;Balsam with his shaft of amber,Mignionette for lady's chamber,And genteel geranium,With a leaf for all that come;And the tulip tricked out finest,And the pink of smell divinest;And as proud as all of themBound in one, the garden's gemHearts-ease, like a gallant boldIn his cloth of purple and gold.
Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who introduced inoculation into England--a practically useful boon to us,--had also the honor to be amongst the first to bring from the East to the West an elegant amusement--the Language of Flowers.[065]
Then he took up his garland, and did showWhat every flower, as country people hold,Did signify; and how all, ordered thus,Expressed his grief: and, to my thoughts, did readThe prettiest lecture of his country artThat could be wished.
Beaumont's and Fletcher's "Philaster."
There from richer banksCulling out flowers, which in a learned orderDo become characters, whence they discloseTheir mutual meanings, garlands then and nosegaysBeing framed into epistles.
Cartwright's "Love's Covenant."
An exquisite invention this,Worthy of Love's most honied kiss,This art of writingbillet-douxIn buds and odours and bright hues,In saying all one feels and thinksIn clever daffodils and pinks,Uttering (as well as silence may,)The sweetest words the sweetest way.
Leigh Hunt.
Yet, no--not words, for theyBut half can tell love's feeling;Sweet flowers alone can sayWhat passion fears revealing.[066]A once bright rose's withered leaf--A towering lily broken--Oh, these may paint a griefNo words could e'er have spoken.
Moore.
By all those token flowers that tellWhat words can ne'er express so well.
Byron.
A mystic language, perfect in each part.Made up of bright hued thoughts and perfumed speeches.
Adams.
If we are to believe Shakespeare it is not human beings only who use a floral language:--
Fairies use flowers for their charactery.
Sir Walter Scott tells us that:--
The myrtle bough bids lovers live--
A sprig of hawthorn has the same meaning as a sprig of myrtle: it gives hope to the lover--the sweet heliotrope tells the depth of his passion,--if he would charge his mistress with levity he presents the larkspur,--and a leaf of nettle speaks her cruelty. Poor Ophelia (inHamlet) gives rosemary for remembrance, and pansies (pensees) for thoughts. The laurel indicates victory in war or success with the Muses,
"The meed of mighty conquerors and poets sage."
The ivy wreathes the brows of criticism. The fresh vine-leaf cools the hot forehead of the bacchanal. Bergamot and jessamine imply the fragrance of friendship.
The Olive is the emblem of peace--the Laurel, of glory--the Rue, of grace or purification (Ophelia'sHerb of Grace O'Sundays)--the Primrose, of the spring of human life--the Bud of the White Rose, of Girl-hood,--the full blossom of the Red Rose, of consummate beauty--the Daisy, of innocence,--the Butter-cup, of gold--the Houstania, of content--the Heliotrope, of devotion in love--the Cross of Jerusalem, of devotion in religion--the Forget-me-not, of fidelity--the Myrrh, of gladness--the Yew, of sorrow--the Michaelmas Daisy, of cheerfulness in age--the Chinese Chrysanthemum, of cheerfulness in adversity--the Yellow Carnation, of disdain--the Sweet Violet, of modesty--the white Chrysanthemum, of truth--the Sweet Sultan, of felicity--the Sensitive Plant, of maiden shyness--the Yellow Day Lily, of coquetry--the Snapdragon, of presumption--the Broom, of humility--the Amaryllis, of pride--the Grass, of submission--the Fuschia, of taste--the Verbena, of sensibility--the Nasturtium, of splendour--the Heath, of solitude--the Blue Periwinkle, of early friendship--the Honey-suckle, of the bond of love--the Trumpet Flower, of fame--the Amaranth, of immortality--the Adonis, of sorrowful remembrance,--and the Poppy, of oblivion.
The Witch-hazel indicates a spell,--the Cape Jasmine saysI'm too happy--the Laurestine,I die if I am neglected--the American Cowslip,You are a divinity--the Volkamenica Japonica,May you be happy--the Rose-colored Chrysanthemum,I love,--and the Venus' Car,Fly with me.
For the following illustrations of the language of flowers I am indebted to a useful and well conducted little periodical published in London and entitled theFamily Friend;--the work is a great favorite with the fair sex.
"Of the floral grammar, the first rule to be observed is, that the pronounIormeis expressed by inclining the symbol flower to theleft, and the pronounthouortheeby inclining it to theright. When, however, it is not a real flower offered, but a representation upon paper, these positions must be reversed, so that the symbol leans to the heart of the person whom it is to signify.
The second rule is, that the opposite of a particular sentiment expressed by a flower presented upright is denoted when the symbol is reversed; thus a rose-bud sent upright, with its thorns and leaves, means, "I fear, but I hope." If the bud is returned upside down, it means, "You must neither hope nor fear." Should the thorns, however, be stripped off, the signification is, "There is everything to hope;" but if stript of its leaves, "There is everything to fear." By this it will be seen that the expression of almost all flowers may be varied by a change in their positions, or an alteration of their state or condition. For example, the marigold flower placed in the hand signifies "trouble of spirits;" on the heart, "trouble or love;" on the bosom, "weariness." The pansy held upright denotes "heart's ease;" reversed, it speaks the contrary. When presented upright, it says, "Think of me;" and when pendent, "Forget me." So, too, the amaryllis, which is the emblem of pride, may be made to express, "My pride is humbled," or, "Your pride is checked," by holding it downwards, and to the right or left, as the sense requires. Then, again, the wallflower, which is the emblem of fidelity in misfortune, if presented with the stalk upward, would intimate that the person to whom it was turned was unfaithful in the time of trouble.
The third rule has relation to the manner in which certain words may be represented; as, for instance, the articles, by tendrils with single, double, and treble branches, as under--
Illustration of The An & A.
The numbers are represented by leaflets running from one to eleven, as thus--
Illustration of '1', '2', '3', '4', '5', & '6'.
From eleven to twenty, berries are added to the ten leaves thus--
Illustration of '12' & '15'.
From twenty to one hundred, compound leaves are added to the other ten for the decimals, and berries stand for the odd numbers so--
Illustration of '20', '34' & '56'.
A hundred is represented by ten tens; and this may be increased by a third leaflet and a branch of berries up to 999.
Illustration of '100'.
A thousand may be symbolized by a frond of fern, having ten or more leaves, and to this a common leaflet may be added to increase the number of thousands. In this way any given number may be represented in foliage, such as the date of a year in which a birthday, or other event, occurs, to which it is desirable to make allusion, in an emblematic wreath or floral picture. Thus, if I presented my love with a mute yet eloquent expression of good wishes on her eighteenth birthday, I should probably do it in this wise:--Within an evergreen wreath (lasting as my affection), consisting of ten leaflets and eight berries (the age of the beloved), I would place a red rose bud (pure and lovely), or a white lily (pure and modest), its spotless petals half concealing a ripe strawberry (perfect excellence); and to this I might add a blossom of the rose-scented geranium (expressive of my preference), a peach blossom to say "I am your captive" fern for sincerity, and perhaps bachelor's buttons forhope in love"--Family Friend.
There are many anecdotes and legends and classical fables to illustrate the history of shrubs and flowers, and as they add something to the peculiar interest with which we regard individual plants, they ought not to be quite passed over by the writers upon Floriculture.
THE FLOS ADONIS.
The Flos Adonis, a blood-red flower of the Anemone tribe, is one of the many plants which, according to ancient story sprang from the tears of Venus and the blood of her coy favorite.
Rose cheeked Adonis hied him to the chaseHunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn
Shakespeare.
Venus, the Goddess of Beauty, the mother of Love, the Queen of Laughter, the Mistress of the Graces and the Pleasures, could make no impression on the heart of the beautiful son of Myrrha, (who was changed into a myrrh tree,) though the passion-stricken charmer looked and spake with the lip and eye of the fairest of the immortals. Shakespeare, in his poem ofVenus and Adonis, has done justice to her burning eloquence, and the lustre of her unequalled loveliness. She had most earnestly, and with all a true lover's care entreated Adonis to avoid the dangers of the chase, but he slighted all her warnings just as he had slighted her affections. He was killed by a wild boar. Shakespeare makes Venus thus lament over the beautiful dead body as it lay on the blood-stained grass.
Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost!What face remains alive that's worth the viewing?Whose tongue is music now? What can'st thou boastOf things long since, or any thing ensuing?The flowers are sweet, their colors fresh and trim,But true sweet beauty lived and died with him.
In her ecstacy of grief she prophecies that henceforth all sorts of sorrows shall be attendants upon love,--and alas! she was too correct an oracle.
The course of true love never does run smooth.
Here is Shakespeare's version of the metamorphosis of Adonis into a flower.
By this the boy that by her side lay killedWas melted into vapour from her sight,And in his blood that on the ground lay spilled,A purple flower sprang up, checquered with white,Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the bloodWhich in round drops upon their whiteness stood.She bows her head, the new sprung flower to smell,Comparing it to her Adonis' breath,And says, within her bosom it shall dwellSince he himself is reft from her by death;She crops the stalk, and in the branch appearsGreen dropping sap which she compares to tears.
The reader may like to contrast this account of the change from human into floral beauty with the version of the same story in Ovid as translated by Eusden.
Then on the blood sweet nectar she bestows,The scented blood in little bubbles rose;Little as rainy drops, which fluttering fly,Borne by the winds, along a lowering sky,Short time ensued, till where the blood was shed,A flower began to rear its purple headSuch, as on Punic apples is revealedOr in the filmy rind but half concealed,Still here the fate of lonely forms we see,So sudden fades the sweet Anemone.The feeble stems to stormy blasts a preyTheir sickly beauties droop, and pine awayThe winds forbid the flowers to flourish longWhich owe to winds their names in Grecian song.
The concluding couplet alludes to the Grecian name of the flower ([Greek: anemos],anemos, the wind.)
It is said of the Anemone that it never opens its lips until Zephyr kisses them. Sir William Jones alludes to its short-lived beauty.
Youth, like a thin anemone, displaysHis silken leaf, and in a morn decays.
Horace Smith speaks of
The coy anemone that ne'er disclosesHer lips until they're blown on by the wind
Plants open out their leaves to breathe the air just as eagerly as they throw down their roots to suck up the moisture of the earth. Dr. Linley, indeed says, "they feed more by their leaves than their roots." I lately met with a curious illustration of the fact that plants draw a larger proportion of their nourishment from light and air than is commonly supposed. I had a beautiful convolvulus growing upon a trellis work in an upper verandah with a south-western aspect. The root of the plant was in pots. The convolvulus growing too luxuriantly and encroaching too much upon the space devoted to a creeper of another kind, I separated its upper branches from the root and left them to die. The leaves began to fade the second day and most of them were quite dead the third or fourth day, but two or three of the smallest retained a sickly life for some days more. The buds or rather chalices outlived the leaves. The chalices continued to expand every morning, for--I am afraid to say how long a time--it might seem perfectly incredible. The convolvulus is a plant of a rather delicate character and I was perfectly astonished at its tenacity of life in this case. I should mention that this happened in the rainy season and that the upper part of the creeper was partially protected from the sun.
The Anemone seems to have been a great favorite with Mrs. Hemans. She thus addresses it.
Flower! The laurel still may shedBrightness round the victor's head,And the rose in beauty's hairStill its festal glory wear;And the willow-leaves droop o'erBrows which love sustains no moreBut by living rays refined,Thou the trembler of the wind,Thou, the spiritual flowerSentient of each breeze and shower,[067]Thou, rejoicing in the skiesAnd transpierced with all their dyes;Breathing-vase with light o'erflowing,Gem-like to thy centre flowing,Thou the Poet's type shall beFlower of soul, Anemone!
The common anemone was known to the ancients but the finest kind was introduced into France from the East Indies, by Monsieur Bachelier, an eminent Florist. He seems to have been a person of a truly selfish disposition, for he refused to share the possession of his floral treasure with any of his countrymen. For ten years the new anemone from the East was to be seen no where in Europe but in Monsieur Bachelier's parterre. At last a counsellor of the French Parliament disgusted with the florist's selfishness, artfully contrived when visiting the garden to drop his robe upon the flower in such a manner as to sweep off some of the seeds. The servant, who was in his master's secret, caught up the robe and carried it away. The trick succeeded; and the counsellor shared the spoils with all his friends through whose agency the plant was multiplied in all parts of Europe.
THE OLIVE.
The OLIVE is generally regarded as an emblem of peace, and should have none but pleasant associations connected with it, but Ovid alludes to a wild species of this tree into which a rude and licentious fellow was converted as a punishment for "banishing the fair," with indecent words and gestures. The poet tells us of a secluded grotto surrounded by trembling reeds once frequented by the wood-nymphs of the sylvan race:--
Till Appulus with a dishonest airAnd gross behaviour, banished thence the fair.The bold buffoon, whene'er they tread the green,Their motion mimics, but with jest obscene;Loose language oft he utters; but ere longA bark in filmy net-work binds his tongue;Thus changed, a base wild olive he remains;The shrub the coarseness of the clown retains.
Garth's Ovid.
The mural of this is excellent. The sentiment reminds me of the Earl of Roscommon's well-known couplet in hisEssay on Translated Verse, a poem now rarely read.
Immodest words admit of no defense,[068]For want of decency is want of sense,
THE HYACINTH.
The HYACINTH has always been a great favorite with the poets, ancient and modern. Homer mentions the Hyacinth as forming a portion of the materials of the couch of Jove and Juno.
Thick new-born Violets a soft carpet spread,And clustering Lotos swelled the rising bed,And suddenHyacinths[069]the turf bestrow,And flaming Crocus made the mountains glow
Iliad, Book 14
Milton gives a similar couch to Adam and Eve.
Flowers were the couchPansies, and Violets, and AsphodelAndHyacinth, earth's freshest, softest lap
With the exception of the lotus (so common in Hindustan,) all these flowers, thus celebrated by the greatest of Grecian poets, and represented as fit luxuries for the gods, are at the command of the poorest peasant in England. The common Hyacinth is known to the unlearned as the Harebell, so called from the bell shape of its flowers and from its growing so abundantly in thickets frequented by hares. Shakespeare, as we have seen, calls it theBlue-bell.
The curling flowers of the Hyacinth, have suggested to our poets the idea of clusters of curling tresses of hair.
His fair large front and eye sublime declaredAbsolute rule, and hyacinthine locksRound from his parted forelock manly hung,Clustering
Milton
The youths whose locks divinely spreadingLike vernal hyacinths in sullen hue
Collins
Sir William Jones describes--
The fragrant hyacinths of Azza's hair,That wanton with the laughing summer air.
A similar allusion may also be found in prose.
"It was the exquisitely fair queen Helen, whose jacinth[070]hair, curled by nature, intercurled by art, like a brook through golden sands, had a rope of fair pearl, which, now hidden by the hair, did, as it were play at fast and loose each with the other, mutually giving and receiving richness."--Sir Philip Sidney
"The ringlets so elegantly disposed round the fair countenances of these fair Chiotes[071]are such as Milton describes by 'hyacinthine locks' crisped and curled like the blossoms of that flower"
Dallaway
The old fable about Hyacinthus is soon told. Apollo loved the youth and not only instructed him in literature and the arts, but shared in his pastimes. The divine teacher was one day playing with his pupil at quoits. Some say that Zephyr (Ovid says it was Boreas) jealous of the god's influence over young Hyacinthus, wafted the ponderous iron ring from its right course and caused it to pitch upon the poor boy's head. He fell to the ground a bleeding corpse. Apollo bade the scarlet hyacinth spring from the blood and impressed upon its leaves the wordsAi Ai, (alas! alas!) the Greek funeral lamentation. Milton alludes to the flower inLycidas,
Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.
Drummond had before spoken of
That sweet flower that bearsIn sanguine spots the tenor of our woes
Hurdis speaks of:
The melancholy Hyacinth, that weepsAll night, and never lifts an eye all day.
Ovid, after giving the old fable of Hyacinthus, tells us that "the time shall come when a most valiant hero shall add his name to this flower." "He alludes," says Mr. Riley, "to Ajax, from whose blood when he slew himself, a similar flower[072]was said to have arisen with the lettersAi Aion its leaves, expressive either of grief or denoting the first two letters of his name [Greek: Aias]."
As poets feigned from Ajax's streaming bloodArose, with grief inscribed, a mournful flower.
Young.
Keats has the following allusion to the old story of Hyacinthus,
Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intentOn either side; pitying the sad deathOf Hyacinthus, when the cruel breathOf Zephyr slew him,--Zephyr penitent,Who now, ere Phoebus mounts the firmamentFondles the flower amid the sobbing rain.
Endymion.
Our English Hyacinth, it is said, is not entitled to its legendary honors. The wordsNon Scriptuswere applied to this plant by Dodonaeus, because it had not theAi Aiupon its petals. Professor Martyn says that the flower calledLilium Martagonor theScarlet Turk's Capis the plant alluded to by the ancients.
Alphonse Karr, the eloquent French writer, whose "Tour Round my Garden" I recommend to the perusal of all who can sympathize with reflections and emotions suggested by natural objects, has the following interesting anecdote illustrative of the force of a floral association:--
"I had in a solitary corner of my gardenthree hyacinthswhich my father had planted and which death did not allow him to see bloom. Every year the period of their flowering was for me a solemnity, a funeral and religious festival, it was a melancholy remembrance which revived and reblossomed every year and exhaled certain thoughts with its perfume. The roots are dead now and nothing lives of this dear association but in my own heart. But what a dear yet sad privilege man possesses above all created beings, while thus enabled by memory and thought to follow those whom he loved to the tomb and there shut up the living with the dead. What a melancholy privilege, and yet is there one amongst us who would lose it? Who is he who would willingly forget all"
Wordsworth, suddenly stopping before a little bunch of harebells, which along with some parsley fern, grew out of a wall, he exclaimed, 'How perfectly beautiful that is!
Would that the little flowers that grow could liveConscious of half the pleasure that they give
The Hyacinth has been cultivated with great care and success in Holland, where from two to three hundred pounds have been given for a single bulb. A florist at Haarlem enumerates 800 kinds of double-flowered Hyacinths, besides about 400 varieties of the single kind. It is said that there are altogether upwards of 2000 varieties of the Hyacinth.
The English are particularly fond of the Hyacinth. It is a domestic flower--a sort of parlour pet. When in "close city pent" they transfer the bulbs to glass vases (Hyacinth glasses) filled with water, and place them in their windows in the winter.
An annual solemnity, called Hyacinthia, was held in Laconia in honor of Hyacinthus and Apollo. It lasted three days. So eagerly was this festival honored, that the soldiers of Laconia even when they had taken the field against an enemy would return home to celebrate it.
THE NARCISSUS
Foolish Narcisse, that likes the watery shore
Spenser
With respect to the NARCISSUS, whose name in the floral vocabulary is the synonyme ofegotism, there is a story that must be familiar enough to most of my readers. Narcissus was a beautiful youth. Teresias, the Soothsayer, foretold that he should enjoy felicity until he beheld his own face but that the first sight of that would be fatal to him. Every kind of mirror was kept carefully out of his way. Echo was enamoured of him, but he slighted her love, and she pined and withered away until she had nothing left her but her voice, and even that could only repeat the last syllables of other people's sentences. He at last saw his own image reflected in a fountain, and taking it for that of another, he fell passionately in love with it. He attempted to embrace it. On seeing the fruitlessness of all his efforts, he killed himself in despair. When the nymphs raised a funeral pile to burn his body, they found nothing but a flower. That flower (into which he had been changed) still bears his name.
Here is a little passage about the fable, from theTwo Noble Kinsmenof Beaumont and Fletcher.
Emilia--This garden hath a world of pleasure in it,What flower is this?Servant--'Tis called Narcissus, Madam.Em.--That was a fair boy certain, but a foolTo love himself, were there not maids,Or are they all hard hearted?Ser--That could not be to one so fair.
Ben Jonson touches the true moral of the fable very forcibly.
'Tis now the known diseaseThat beauty hath, to hear too deep a senseOf her own self conceived excellenceOh! had'st thou known the worth of Heaven's rich gift,Thou would'st have turned it to a truer use,And not (with starved and covetous ignorance)Pined in continual eyeing that bright gemThe glance whereof to others had been moreThan to thy famished mind the wide world's store.
Gay's version of the fable is as follows:
Here young Narcissus o'er the fountain stoodAnd viewed his image in the crystal floodThe crystal flood reflects his lovely charmsAnd the pleased image strives to meet his arms.No nymph his inexperienced breast subdued,Echo in vain the flying boy pursuedHimself alone, the foolish youth admiresAnd with fond look the smiling shade desires,O'er the smooth lake with fruitless tears he grieves,His spreading fingers shoot in verdant leaves,Through his pale veins green sap now gently flows,And in a short lived flower his beauty glows
Addison has given a full translation of the story of Narcissus from Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book the third.
The common daffodil of our English fields is of the genus Narcissus. "Pray," said some one to Pope, "what is thisAsphodelof Homer?" "Why, I believe," said Pope "if one was to say the truth, 'twas nothing else but that poor yellow flower that grows about our orchards, and, if so, the verse might be thus translated in English
--The stern AchillesStalked through a mead of daffodillies"
THE LAUREL
Daphne was a beautiful nymph beloved by that very amorous gentleman, Apollo. The love was not reciprocal. She endeavored to escape his godship's importunities by flight. Apollo overtook her. She at that instant solicited aid from heaven, and was at once turned into a laurel. Apollo gathered a wreath from the tree and placing it on his own immortal brows, decreed that from that hour the laurel should be sacred to his divinity.
THE SUN-FLOWER
Who can unpitying see the flowery raceShed by the morn then newflushed bloom resign,Before the parching beam? So fade the fair,When fever revels in their azure veinsBut one,the lofty follower of the sun,Sad when he sits shuts up her yellow leaves,Drooping all night, and when he warm return,Points her enamoured bosom to his ray
Thomson.
THE SUN-FLOWER (Helianthus) was once the fair nymph Clytia. Broken- hearted at the falsehood of her lover, Apollo, (who has so many similar sins to answer for) she pined away and died. When it was too late Apollo's heart relented, and in honor of true affection he changed poor Clytia into aSun-flower.[073]It is sometimes calledTourne-sol--a word that signifies turning to the sun. Thomas Moore helps to keep the old story in remembrance by the concluding couplet of one of his sweetest ballads.
Oh! the heart that has truly loved never forgets,But as truly loves on to its closeAs the sun flower turns on her god when he setsThe same look that she turned when he rose
But Moore has here poetized a vulgar error. Most plants naturally turn towards the light, but the sun-flower (in spite of its name) is perhaps less apt to turn itself towards Apollo than the majority of other flowers for it has a stiff stem and a number of heavy heads. At all events it does not change its attitude in the course of the day. The flower-disk that faces the morning sun has it back to it in the evening.
Gerard calls the sun-flower "The Flower of the Sun or the Marigold of Peru". Speaking of it in the year 1596 he tells us that he had some in his own garden in Holborn that had grown to the height of fourteen feet.
THE WALL-FLOWER
The weed is green, when grey the wall,And blossoms rise where turrets fall
Herrick gives us a pretty version of the story of the WALL-FLOWER, (cheiranthus cheiri)("the yellow wall-flower stained with iron brown")
Why this flower is now called soList sweet maids and you shall knowUnderstand this firstling wasOnce a brisk and bonny lassKept as close as Danae wasWho a sprightly springal loved,And to have it fully proved,Up she got upon a wallTempting down to slide withal,But the silken twist untied,So she fell, and bruised and diedLove in pity of the deedAnd her loving, luckless speed,Turned her to the plant we callNow, 'The Flower of the Wall'
The wall-flower is the emblem of fidelity in misfortune, because it attaches itself to fallen towers and gives a grace to ruin. David Moir (the Delta ofBlackwood's Magazine) has a poem on this flower. I must give one stanza of it.
In the season of the tulip cupWhen blossoms clothe the trees,How sweet to throw the lattice upAnd scent thee on the breeze;The butterfly is then abroad,The bee is on the wing,And on the hawthorn by the roadThe linnets sit and sing.
Lord Bacon observes that wall-flowers are very delightful when set under the parlour window or a lower chamber window. They are delightful, I think, any where.
THE JESSAMINE.
The Jessamine, with which the Queen of flowers,To charm her god[074]adorns his favorite bowers,Which brides, by the plain hand of neatness dressed--Unenvied rivals!--wear upon their breast;Sweet as the incense of the morn, and chasteAs the pure zone which circles Dian's waist.
Churchill.
The elegant and fragrant JESSAMINE, or Jasmine, (Jasmimum Officinale) with its "bright profusion of scattered stars," is said to have passed from East to West. It was originally a native of Hindustan, but it is now to be found in every clime, and is a favorite in all. There are many varieties of it in Europe. In Italy it is woven into bridal wreaths and is used on all festive occasions. There is a proverbial saying there, that she who is worthy of being decorated with jessamine is rich enough for any husband. Its first introduction into that sunny land is thus told. A certain Duke of Tuscany, the first possessor of a plant of this tribe, wished to preserve it as an unique, and forbade his gardener to give away a single sprig of it. But the gardener was a more faithful lover than servant and was more willing to please a young mistress than an old master. He presented the young girl with a branch of jessamine on her birth-day. She planted it in the ground; it took root, and grew and blossomed. She multiplied the plant by cuttings, and by the sale of these realized a little fortune, which her lover received as her marriage dowry.
In England the bride wears a coronet of intermingled orange blossom and jessamine. Orange flowers indicate chastity, and the jessamine, elegance and grace.
THE ROSE.
For here the rose expandsHer paradise of leaves.
Southey.
The ROSE, (Rosa) the Queen of Flowers, was given by Cupid to Harpocrates, the God of Silence, as a bribe, to prevent him from betraying the amours of Venus. A rose suspended from the ceiling intimates that all is strictly confidential that passes under it. Hence the phrase--under the Rose[075].
The rose was raised by Flora from the remains of a favorite nymph. Venus and the Graces assisted in the transformation of the nymph into a flower. Bacchus supplied streams of nectar to its root, and Vertumnus showered his choicest perfumes on its head.
The loves of the Nightingale and the Rose have been celebrated by the Muses of many lands. An Eastern poet says "You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and flowers before the Nightingale; yet he wishes not, in his constant heart, for more than the sweet breath of his beloved Rose."
The Turks say that the rose owes its origin to a drop of perspiration that fell from the person of their prophet Mahommed.
The classical legend runs that the rose was at first of a pure white, but a rose-thorn piercing the foot of Venus when she was hastening to protect Adonis from the rage of Mars, her blood dyed the flower. Spenser alludes to this legend:
White as the native rose, before the changeWhich Venus' blood did on her leaves impress.
Spenser.
Milton says that in Paradise were,
Flowers of all hue, andwithout thorns the rose.
According to Zoroaster there was no thorn on the rose until Ahriman (the Evil One) entered the world.
Here is Dr. Hooker's account of the origin of the red rose.
To sinless Eve's admiring sightThe rose expanded snowy white,When in the ecstacy of blissShe gave the modest flower a kiss,And instantaneous, lo! it drewFrom her red lip its blushing hue;While from her breath it sweetness found,And spread new fragrance all around.
This reminds me of a passage in Mrs. Barrett Browning'sDrama of Exilein which she makes Eve say--
--For was I notAt that last sunset seen in Paradise,When all the westering clouds flashed out in throngsOf sudden angel-faces, face by face,All hushed and solemn, as a thought of GodHeld them suspended,--was I not, that hourThe lady of the world, princess of life,Mistress of feast and favour?Could I touchA Rose with my white hand, but it becameRedder at once?
Another poet. (Mr. C. Cooke) tells us that a species of red rose with all her blushing honors full upon her, taking pity on a very pale maiden, changed complexions with the invalid and became herself as white as snow.
Byron expressed a wish that all woman-kind had but onerosymouth, that he might kiss all woman-kind at once. This, as some one has rightly observed, is better than Caligula's wish that all mankind had but one head that he might cut it off at a single blow.
Leigh Hunt has a pleasant line about the rose:
And what a red mouth hath the rose, the woman of the flowers!
In the Malay language the same word signifiesflowersandwomen.
Human beauty and the rose are ever suggesting images of each other to the imagination of the poets. Shakespeare has a beautiful description of the two little princes sleeping together in the Tower of London.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalkThat in their summer beauty kissed each other.
William Browne (our Devonshire Pastoral Poet) has arosydescription of a kiss:--
To her AmyntasCame and saluted; never man beforeMore blest, nor like this kiss hath been anotherBut when two dangling cherries kist each other;Nor ever beauties, like, met at such closes,But in the kisses of two damask roses.
Here is something in the same spirit from Crashaw.
So have I seenTwo silken sister-flowers consult and layTheir bashful cheeks together; newly theyPeeped from their buds, showed like the garden's eyesScarce waked, like was the crimson of their joys,Like were the tears they wept, so like that oneSeemed but the other's kind reflection.
Loudon says that there is a rose called theYork and Lancasterwhich when, it comes true has one half of the flower red and the other half white. It was named in commemoration of the two houses at the marriage of Henry VII. of Lancaster with Elizabeth of York.
Anacreon devotes one of his longest and best odes to the laudation of the Rose. Such innumerable translations have been made of it that it is now too well known for quotation in this place. Thomas Moore in his version of the ode gives in a foot-note the following translation of a fragment of the Lesbian poetess.
If Jove would give the leafy bowersA queen for all their world of flowersThe Rose would be the choice of Jove,And blush the queen of every groveSweetest child of weeping morning,Gem the vest of earth adorning,Eye of gardens, light of lawns,Nursling of soft summer dawnsJune's own earliest sigh it breathes,Beauty's brow with lustre wreathes,And to young Zephyr's warm caressesSpreads abroad its verdant tresses,Till blushing with the wanton's playIts cheeks wear e'en a redder ray.
From the idea of excellence attached to this Queen of Flowers arose, as Thomas Moore observes, the pretty proverbial expression used by Aristophanes--you have spoken roses, a phrase adds the English poet, somewhat similar to thedire des fleurettesof the French.
The Festival of the Rose is still kept up in many villages of France and Switzerland. On a certain day of every year the young unmarried women assemble and undergo a solemn trial before competent judges, the most virtuous and industrious girl obtains a crown of roses. In the valley of Engandine, in Switzerland, a man accused of a crime but proved to be not guilty, is publicly presented by a young maiden with a white rose called the Rose of Innocence.
Of the truly elegant Moss Rose I need say nothing myself; it has been so amply honored by far happier pens than mine. Here is a very ingenious and graceful story of its origin. The lines are from the German.
THE MOSS ROSE