The mystical Language of Flowers, as applied to the passions and sentiments, appears to have had its rise in those sunny regions where the rose springs spontaneously from its native soil, and the jessamine and the tuberose fill with beauty and perfume alike the garden and the wilderness :: Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute; Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, "Certainly," says a writer in the Edinburgh Magazine of 1818, "the influence of this land of the sun has been felt by the pilgrims from our colder climes, and they have presented to us a pleasing fable in the Language of Flowers, and our imaginations have received with delight the descriptions and interpretations with which we have been favoured from time to time. We have dwelt on, till we have become enamoured of the delicate mode of expressing the rise and progress of love by the gift of the tender rose-bud, or the full blown flower. We have pitied the despair indicated by a present of myrtle interwoven with cypress and poppies, and we believe that these emblems will never cease to convey some similar sentiments, wherever poetry is cultivated or delicacy understood." -The same author continues, "But"-Oh, reader, like living gems, the bosom of the earth,-have not these voices-voices of instruction, and reproof, and sympathy, and love, and all that is most gentle and benign? Assuredly they have! Let us then look upon them not as the mere play-things of an idle hour,—as gauds and decorations for the frivolous and vain, but as something too sacred to be made the symbols of false sentiments and feigned, or evil passions. But reverently address them thus: Ye flowers of beauty, pencilled by the hand Wandering, and holding with the heavenly dews, Watched by the stars, and offering every morn Your incense grateful both to God and man."-POLLOK Truly the real "Language of Flowers" is no system of unmeaning similitudes; there is a deeper significance attached to every plant and flower, indeed to every object in nature, than the mere sensualist or the shallow sentimentalist would imagine; and here are the words of one who has studied them deeply, and knows that they are types and characters of the glorious revelation, second only to that direct one which God has given us in the Bible. What says he ? "Listen to the words of wisdom, Uttered by the tongue of truth, Tottering age and manly vigour, Listen ye and smiling youth."-H. G. A. "Books are great and glorious agents of civilization and happiness. They are the silent teachers of mankind, filling the mind with wisdom, and strengthening the understanding for the strife of action; making us powerful and gentle, wise and humble, at the same time. But we cannot be always buried in our books; we must sometimes go out into the sunshine, and it is necessary, in order to enjoy our books, that we should also enjoy the privilege of air and light, drinking in health and vigour, to enable us to make the best and most profitable use of our sedentary hours. In direct opposition then to books, or rather in secret combination with them, we would place flowers- the out-of-door books Nature has so liberally provided for us, in so rich a variety of types and bindings, as to leave us no excuse for not gratifying all our individual tastes. The lover of flowers has this advantage over the lover of books, that he can never be at a loss for variety; but we suspect the classification is somewhat arbitrary, and that there is hardly any one who loves the one, who does not also love the other. The best way to enjoy either is to enjoy both; to take them alternately, so that they may relieve and show off each other to the best advantage. A walk in an open field, and one hour spent in gathering wild flowers, to be afterwards grouped into a vase upon the library table, is by no means the least suggestive preparation for a morning's reading."-Yes, and then, as we inhale their balmy freshness, and look upon their beautiful hues, we shall think of the spots in which we have gathered them, and our spirits will become invigorated, our thoughts more penetrating, and our minds strengthened for the work before us : THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. BY C. F. HOFFMAN. Teach thee their language? sweet, I know no tongue Their language? Prythee! why they are themselves And oh, do not their soft and starry eyes Now bent to earth, to heaven now meekly pleading, Their incense fainting as it seeks the skies, Yet still from earth with freshening hope recedingSay, do not these to every heart declare, With all the silent eloquence of truth, The language that they speak is Nature's prayer, THE ALBANIAN LOVE-LETTER. BY LEIGH HUNT. An exquisite invention this, Worthy of Love's most honied kiss, This art of writing billet-doux In buds, and odours, and bright hues,— In clever daffodils and pinks, Uttering (as well as silence may) How charming in some rural spot, Growing one's own choice words and fancies A letter comes just gathered, we And then, when we have kissed its wit, And little darling (mignionette); And gratitude and polyanthus, And flowers that say, "Felt never man thus !" |