OUNTAIN ASH, or ROWAN TREE. Pyrus Aucuparia. Class 12, IcoSANDRIA. Order: PENTAGYNIA. The common appellation of this beautiful tree, the character of its foliage, and its choice of situation, have led to some confusion respecting its classification. Gerarde and Gilpin, for instance, have considered it a variety of the true ash (Fraxinus); an error which has not escaped the animadversions of later botanists, who all now concur in comprehending it in the genus Pyrus.

TALISMAN.

One effort more, and now I seem to stand
On proud Helvellyn,- feel around me blow
The keen, fresh breeze; or tread "the silver strand"
Of the blue lake, and watch its gentle flow:
Now pierce the glen where Ayrey's torrent boils,
And mark the sunbeams dally with the spray,
Till o'er the troubled flood an Iris smiles,

As if to charm its wrathful mood away;
Or pitying view each little flower, bright-hued,
Weeping its life away in sunless solitude.

Now glancing upward to a dizzy height,

I see the rowan fling its feathery sprays
O'er the cleft rocks, with scarlet fruit so bright,
It seems a sylvan Iris to my gaze.

Fairest of trees that love the rushing stream,

The rocky glen, or mountain's shaggy side!
Ah! well, methinks, of yore might Fancy deem
No evil thing could in thy presence bide;
So pure thou look'st, so fearless, and so free,
Owning no spells thyself save beauty's witchery.

ANON.

OUSE-EAR, SCORPION-GRASS. Myo-
sotis Palustris. Class 5, PENTANDRIA. Or-
der: MONOGYNIA. This plant, so celebrated
in German love-song, under the emblem of
"Vergisz mich nicht," has hence been made
to signify "forget me not," by all the son-
net writers of Europe.

'Where time, on sorrow's page of gloom
Has fix'd its envious lot,

Or swept the record from the tomb,
It says-Forget-me-not."

FORGET ME NOT.

The blue-eyed Forget-me-Not, beautiful flower,
Half-woo'd and half-stolen, I brought from her bower,
By the bright river's brink, where she nestled so low,
That the water o'er stem and o'er leaflet might flow;
As if, like Narcissus, she foolishly tried

To gaze on her own gentle face in the tide.

Half inclined, half reluctant, the flower bade adieu
To the friends left behind in the dell where she grew;
And a few shining drops, from the river-spray flung,

Like tears of regret on her azure eyes hung;
But I kiss'd them away, as a lover had done,
In joy that my fair river-beauty I'd won.

Remember thee?

Yea, from the table of my memory

I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,

TWAMLEY.

All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter.

SHAKSPEARE.

YRTLE. Myrtus. Class 12, IcoSANDRIA. Order: MONOGYNIA. The oak has ever been consecrated to Jupiter, the laurel to Apollo, the olive to Minerva, and the myrtle to Venus. Among the ancients the myrtle was a great favourite, for its elegance, and its sweet and glossy evergreen foliage. Its perfumed and delicate flowers seem destined to adorn the fair forehead of love, and are said to have been made the emblem of love, and dedicated to beauty, when Venus first sprang from the sea. We are informed by mythological writers that when the fair goddess first appeared upon the waves, she was preceded by the houris with a scarf of a thousand colours, and a garland of myrtle.

LOVE.

See, rooted in the earth, her kindly bed,
The unendanger'd myrtle, deck'd with flowers,
Before the threshold stands to welcome us!

WORDSWORTH.

Ye myrtle wreaths, your fragrance shed
Around a younger brow!

WORDSWORTH.

In peace, love tunes the shepherd's reed;
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen;

In hamlets, dances on the green;

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below, and saints above;

For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

SCOTT.

Love the sense of right and wrong confounds,
Strong love and proud ambition have no bounds.
DRYDEN.

ARCISSUS, FALSE. Narcissus Pseudo. Class 6, HEXANDRIA. Order: MONOGYNIA. The flowers of this plant very often fail. It is a native of our meadows, but is cultivated with great care in Holland, and exported thence under the name of Phoenix, or Soleil d'or. After tending the forced plant

with much care, we are surprised to find that we possess in it nothing better than the false narcissus.

DELUSIVE HOPE.

As rising on its purple wing
The insect queen of eastern spring,
O'er emerald meadows of Kashmere,
Invites the young pursuer near,

And leads him on from flower to flower,
A weary chase and wasted hour,
Then leaves him, as it soars on high,
With panting heart and tearful eye:
So beauty lures the full-grown child,
With hue as bright and wing as wild;
A chase of idle hopes and fears,
Begun in folly, closed in tears.

BYRON.

On life's gay stage, one inch above the grave,
The proud run up and down in quest of eyes;
The sensual, in pursuit of something worse;
The grave, of gold; the politic, of power;
And all, of other butterflies, as vain.

YOUNG.

How must a spirit, late escaped from earth,
The truth of things new blazing in its eye,
Look back, astonish'd, on the ways of men,
Whose lives' whole drift is to forget their graves!

YOUNG.

ARCISSUS.

Narcissus Poeticus. Class 6, HEXANDRIA. Order: MONOGYNIA. The poet's narcissus exhales a very agreeable perfume; it bears a golden crown in the centre of its pure white petals, which expand quite flat, the stem slightly inclining to one side. The cup or nectary in the centre, which is very short, is frequently bordered with a bright purple circle, and sometimes the nectary is edged with crimson.

Ovid, in his Metamorphoses, tells us of the fate of the lovely and coy Narcissus. A thousand nymphs loved the handsome youth, but suffered the pains of unrequited love. Viewing himself in the crystal fount, he became enamoured of his own image.

EGOTISM.

How beautiful art thou, my winter Flower!
Lifting with graceful pride thy stately head,
Heavy with its rich crown of pearl and gold:
Thou sheddest on the air such soft perfume,
That I could deem 't was incense, gently flung
Before thy beauty's shrine by some fair sprite
Enamour'd of thy maiden loveliness.

The hyacinth and violet entwined

Have scarce so sweet an odour.

Thanks, my Flower,

My gentle, kind companion-for to me

Thy silence is most eloquent:- I love
Thy quiet steadfast gaze, as, o'er my desk,

The long day through thou hast seem'd watching me;
And ever and anon, in glancing up,

I still have met thy calm unchanging look
Reminding me, in silence, of the friend
Whose gift thou wert to me.

TWAMLEY.