48 CHAPTER II. THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. "The gentle flowers Retired, and stooping o'er the wilderness, Talked of humility, and peace, and love." ROBERT POLLOK. Over what barren spot is it, reader, that the "gentle flowers" shed, with most effect, their sanctifying influence? Is it not over that moral "wilderness," the heart of man, that they "stoop," and "talk of humility, and peace, and love," till the stony places become fruitful, and produce abundantly, good thoughts, pure wishes, and holy desires and aspirations; till the sterile waste changes to a garden? It is, and none that have ever truly listened to their eloquent preaching, have turned away unimproved and uninstructed, for : "From the first bud, whose verdant head The winter's lingering tempest braves, All are for use, for health, for pleasure given, All speak, in various ways, the bounteous hand of Heaven.' CHARLOTTE SMITH. These are the sentiments of a pure mind and a lofty imagination, and the authoress of the following words may well claim sisterhood with her from whom they emanated :-" And who dare say that flowers do not speak a language, a clear and intelligible language ? Ask WORDSWORTH, for to him they have spoken, until they excited thoughts that lie too deep for tears ;' ask CHAUCER, for he held companionship with them in the meadows; ask any of the poets, ancient or modern. Observe them, reader, love them, linger over them, and ask your own heart if they do not speak affection, benevolence, and piety?" In confirmation of this, we also quote some stanzas from another poet, whose volumes, as this authoress truly observes, are like a beautiful country, diversified with woods, meadows, heaths, and flower-gardens* :” "Bowing adorers of the gale, Upraise your loaded stems; Unfold your cups in splendour, speak! Violets, sweet tenants of the shade, Go, bid the artist's simple stain And match your Maker's skill. Daisies, ye flowers of lowly birth, In sweetest, smiling bloom, declare Your Maker, and my God."-JOHN CLARE. 66 Verily, it was well said, that "Solomon in all his glory *Flora Domestica. was not arrayed like one of these;" and well was it continued, by a lately departed poet, "and Solomon, in all his wisdom never taught more wholesome lessons than these silent monitors convey to a thoughtful mind and an understanding heart."* "There are two books," says SIR THOMAS BROWNE, "from whence I collect my divinity; besides that written one of God, another of His servant, nature, that universal and public manuscript that lies expanded unto the eyes of all. Those who never saw Him in the one have discovered Him in the other. This was the scripture and theology of the heathens; the natural motion of the sun made them more admire Him than its supernatural station did the children of Israel; the ordinary effects of nature wrought more admiration in them, than in the other all his miracles. Surely the heathens knew better how to join and read these mystical letters, than we Christians, who cast a more careless eye on these common hieroglyphics, and disdain to suck divinity from the flowers of nature." Oh, yes! be sure― "The simple flowers and streams Who holdeth converse in their language pure, Shall find, like him who Eden's garden drest, "Flowers," says MR. PHILLIPS,+" formed a principal feature in symbolical language, which is the most ancient, as well as the most natural, of all languages." It was an easy transition, after they had come to be Flora Historica. * Southey. regarded as proofs and manifestations of divine love, goodness, and protection, to make them the signs and symbols of human feelings and passions; hence hopes, fears, and desires, joys and sorrows, and all the sentiments and emotions which sway and agitate the soul of man, have had their appropriate expression in these mute, yet eloquent letters of the blooming "alphabet of creation:" "By all those token flowers that tell What words can ne'er express so well."-BYRON. Sings the poet of our day, adjuring his mistress to believe in his truth and fidelity, and so, though in somewhat different words, might have sung, and very likely did sing, the Israelite of old on the flowery banks of Jordan, the Babylonian in his hanging gardens, or the swarthy son of Egypt, who, kneeling by the mysterious Nile, might have plucked the blossom of the bright nymphaea, and putting it to his lips, and turning to the earthly idol of his adoration, have said : "The lotus flower, whose leaves I now Far more than words can tell thee how This may be considered by some of our readers a fanciful theory, but surely it has as good foundations for its support, as many an hypotheses which has obtained universal approbation and credit: in our chapter entitled "Floral Ceremonies," we shall fully prove the high antiquity of the use of flowers, as ornaments and adjuncts to splendour and enjoyment, on festive and other occasions, and as they were so used and ap But propriated, we may well believe in their extended application, as symbols of passion and sentiment. little need, we imagine will there be, for proof of this; all who really love flowers; who delight in them as the sweetest characters which appear on the pages of the book of nature, ever spread out for their instruction, will at once coincide in our opinion, and say, without pausing to examine what PLINY has said upon this subject, to decipher the Egyptian hieroglyphics, or to compare the floral alphabet of the effeminate Chinese, with that of the voluptuous Turk, or the more refined and classic Greek, "Have not the flowers a language? speak, young rose, Thy blooming loves-thy sweet regards disclose; Speak, grey-haired daisy !—ancient primrose tell! Speak poets of the fields !-rapt gazers on the skies! Ye poetry of woods! romance of fields ! Nature's imagination bodied bright! * Earth's floral page, that high instruction yields !- Gave God your blooming forms, your leaves of light; And glorious thoughts may angeì eyes discern Flower-writ in mead and vale, where'er man's footsteps turn." CHARLES SWAIN. "When nature laughs out in all the triumph of spring, it may be said, without a metaphor, that, in her thousand varieties of flowers, we see |