heat of the sun in summer, nor admits its rays more kindly in the winter. Its introduction into England is generally ascribed to Lord Bacon, who planted a noble parcel of them at Verulam :-nor can I gaze through its branches upon the blue benignant heavens, without participating that enthusiasm of natural religion by which Bacon himself was actuated, when he occasionally walked forth in a gentle shower without any covering on his head, in order, as he said, that he might feel the spirit of the universe descending upon him. Mention is made of a plane-tree growing at a villa of the Emperor Caligula, whose hollow trunk was capacious enough to contain ten or twelve persons at dinner, with their attendants; but the most celebrated upon record, is that with which Xerxes was so much smitten, that he halted his whole army for some days to admire it; collecting the jewels of his whole court to adorn it; neglecting all the concerns of his grand expedition, while he passionately addressed it as his mistress, his minion, his goddess; and, when he finally tore himself away, causing a representation of it to be stamped on a gold medal, which he continually wore about his neck. Some interesting reflections will be suggested by the mere nomenclature of plants, if we attend to a few of the more common sorts, as we stray along the borders, and through the green-house. This little elegant flower, with its hoar and dark green leaves, and golden crown, has had two sponsors; having first been honoured with the name of Parthenis, imparted to it by the Virgin Goddess, until Artemisia, the wife of Mausolus, adopted it, and ordered that it should bear her own. The columns, and obelisks, and towers of the far-famed mausoleum built by this Queen have gradually crumbled, until they have become so effectually mingled with the dust, that even the site of one of the wonders of the world is utterly unknown; while this fragile flower, immutable and immortal, continues precisely the same as when her youthful fingers first pruned its leaves in the windows of her palace. In this Teucrium, or tree germander, we recognise the name of King Teucer, who first introduced it among his Phrygian subjects, as well as the worship of Cybele, and the dances of the Corybantes. Black Hellebore, or melampodium, is not very inviting in its associations, if we merely consider its dangerous qualities; but it possesses an historical interest, when we recollect, that with this plant Melampus cured the mad daughters of King Prætus, and received the eldest in marriage for his reward. Euphorbia commemorates the physician of Juba, a Moorish prince; and Gentiana immortalizes a King of Illyria.* These references might be extended among ancient names to the end of our walk; but we will now advert to a few of the more modern derivations. Tournefort gave to this scarlet jasmine the name of Bignonia, in honour of Abbot Bignon, librarian to Louis XIV. The Browallia demissa and elata record a botanist of humble origin, who afterwards became Bishop of Upsal; and the French, by a Greek pun upon Buo * See Smith's Introduction to Botany, p. 374. naparte's name, introduced a Calomeria into their botanical catalogue, although it has now probably changed its name with the dynasty. Linnæus, in his Critica Botanica, has, in several instances, drawn a fanciful analogy between botanists and their appropriate plants; but as it might be tedious to go more minutely into this subject, the reader can refer to the same authority from which we have already quoted. Other motives than the natural and laudable one of commemorating distinguished botanists have sometimes influenced the bestowal of names upon plants, and satire and irony have occasionally intruded themselves into the sanctuary of science. "Buffonia tenuifolia is well known to be a satire on the slender botanical pretensions of the great French zoologist; as the Hillia parasitica of Jacquin, though perhaps not meant, is an equally just one upon our pompous Sir John Hill. I mean not to approve of such satires: they stain the purity of our lovely science. If a botanist does not deserve commemoration, let him sink peaceably into oblivion. It savours of malignity to make his crown a crown of thorns; and if the application be unjust, it is truly diabolical." * But see! this Convolvulus begins to shut up its flowers, a sure indication of approaching rain; and the Calendula pluvialis, commonly called the poor man's weather-glass, has already closed its petals in anticipation of an April shower. These barometers of nature are seldom mistaken; the big drops are already * Smith's Introduction to Botany, p. 382. falling around us;-run, run, let us seek the shelter of the house, and at our next walk we will take the opposite side of the garden, in the hope of gleaning some reflections from its variegated borders. MAY MORNING. Up and away! 'tis a holiday! Behold the grass is pranckt with daisies, The banks with flowers. The sun is flinging on waters glancing His early light; The birds are singing, and branches dancing, At the glad sight. Come, let us rush in the maze of boughs, And meet at the May-pole to dance and carouse; He that is first shall be Jack in the Green, And the forwardest lass shall be crown'd our Queen. LISTEN to the author of the Faery Queen, who curbs the exuberance of his rich imagination, and, confining himself to a simple though beautiful transcript from nature, thus ushers in the month of May: "Is not thilke the merry moneth of May, --- With pleasaunce; the ground with grasse, the woods Reader! if thou dost not catch the fragrance of the May-garlands, and inhale the freshness of the morning grass, springing up from beneath thy feet; if thou dost not see the sparkling eyes and joy-flushed cheeks of the country damsels and youths as they return from their Maying; if thou dost not hear their songs and laughter, borne fitfully to thine ear by the balmy breeze,-then do I maintain that thou lackest taste to relish the rural accuracy, the cordial and countrified simplicity, the gusto, in short, with which Spenser, in the above passage from his Shepheards Calender, commences his May Eclogue. Perhaps thou art offended with the rude antiquity of the garb in which it is clothed:-nay then, thou shalt have something as gorgeous and modern as thy heart could wish, if thou wilt but read Darwin's Invocation to the same month. “Born in yon blaze of orient sky, Sweet May! thy radiant form unfold, Boskets, bushes: from Boschetti, Ital. + Please. |