Part 8
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The glory of the human form Is but a perishing thing, and Love will droop When its brief grace hath faded. But the mind Perisheth not, and when the outward charm Hath had its brief existence, it awakes, And is the lovelier that it slept so long.
_Willis._
Beauty lies As naturally upon his cheek as bloom Upon a peach. Like morning vapour, flies Before his smile my mind’s infrequent gloom. We tremble when we think that many a storm May beat upon him in the time to come,-- That his now beautiful and fragile form May bear a burden sore and wearisome. Yet, so the stain of guiltiness and shame Be never placed upon his soul and name,-- So he preserve his virtue though he die,-- And to his GOD, his race, his country prove A faithful man, whom praise nor gold can buy, Nor threats of vile, designing men can move,-- We ask no more.
_MacKellar._
SCARLET GERANIUM.... _Stupidity_.
There are many varieties of the Geranium, distinguished by the shape and hue of the flowers and leaves, and the difference in their fragrance. The Scarlet Geranium is a very beautiful flower, but its scent is disagreeable. The following anecdote will give the reason of its being chosen as the emblem of stupidity. Madame de Staël was always angry when any of her acquaintance attempted to introduce a stupid person into her company. One day, one of her friends ventured to bring to her a young Swiss officer of most prepossessing exterior. The lady, pleased with his appearance, was very lively, and said a thousand flattering things to the new-comer, who seemed at first to be struck mute by surprise and admiration. When, however, he had listened to her for above an hour without opening his lips, she began to suspect the cause of his silence, and put to him such direct questions that he could not help answering. His answers were extremely silly! Madame de Staël, vexed at having thrown away her time and her wit, turned to her friend and said: “Indeed, sir, you are like my gardener, who thought to do me a pleasure by bringing me this morning a pot of Geranium: but I can tell you that I made him take back the flower, desiring him not to let me see it any more.” “And why so?” asked the young man in astonishment. “It was, since you wish to know, because the Geranium is a beautiful scarlet flower; while you look at it, it pleases the eye; but when you press it ever so slightly, it gives out a disagreeable smell.” So saying, Madame de Staël rose and went out of the room, leaving the young fool abashed and in confusion.
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This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well, craves a kind of wit.
_Shakspeare._
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Your blunderer is as sturdy as a rock, The creature is so sure to kick and bite, A muleteer’s the man to set him right. First appetite enlists him truth’s sworn foe, Then obstinate self-will confirms him so. Tell him he wanders; that his error leads To fatal ill; that though the path he treads Be flowery, and he see no cause of fear, Death and the pains of hell attend him there. In vain the slave of arrogance and pride, He has no hearing on the prudent side. His still refuted quirks he still repeats; New raised objections with new quibbles meets; Till sinking in the quicksand he defends, He dies disputing, and the contest ends.
_Cowper._
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A set o’ dull conceited hashes, Confuse their brains in college classes! They gang in stirks, and come out asses, Plain truth to speak; An’ syne they think to climb Parnassus By dint o’ Greek. Gie me a spark o’ Nature’s fire, That’s a’ the learning I desire; Then tho’ I drudge thro’ dub an’ mire At pleugh or cart, My muse, tho’ hamely in attire, May touch the heart.
_Burns._
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The man who looks around him as he walks Sees objects often wonderful and new; And he who thinks while his companion talks In time may grow the wiser of the two. An open eye--a quick, attentive ear Will lead the mind into the ways of knowledge; For all the world’s a universal college, And every one may be a learner here. Experience is the teacher: dear, indeed, Her charges are to thoughtless folks and fools; But those who follow carefully her rules The various tongues of nature learn to read. Who seldom ploughs his mind shall reap but little; Weeds quickly overspread the fallow soil; The toiler may be wearied by his toil, But it shall yield sufficiency of victual, Enough for his own use, and much to spare. To him who hath, abundance shall be given; From him who squanders wastefully his share, All that he has shall righteously be riven: The world shall make a proverb of his name, And he shall fill a sepulchre of shame.
_MacKellar._
OAK GERANIUM.... _Friendship_.
The Oak Geranium does not present so beautiful an appearance as the scarlet variety; but the pale blue colour of the flower, and the length of time which it continues in bloom, endear it to us as the emblem of true friendship.
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What though on Love’s altar the flame that is glowing Is brighter?--yet Friendship’s is steadier far! One wavers and turns with each breeze that is blowing, And is but a meteor,--the other’s a star! In youth Love’s light Burns warm and bright, But dies ere the winter of age be past,-- While Friendship’s flame Burns ever the same, And glows but the brighter, the nearer its last!
_Anon._
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Thanks to my stars, I have not ranged about The wilds of life, ere I could find a friend: Nature first pointed out my brother to me, And early taught me, by her sacred force, To love thy person, ere I knew thy merit, Till what was instinct grew up into friendship. Ours has severest virtue for its basis, And such a friendship ends not but with life.
_Addison._
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O! Friendship! in thy constant ray, My heart is cheered and cannot sink, Though gloom and storm around me play And I am pressed to death’s cold brink!
_Peerbold._
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The friend Who smiles when smoothing down the lonely couch, And does kind deeds, which any one can do Who has a feeling spirit,--such a friend Heals with a searching balsam.
_Percival._
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Delightful is an evening’s cheerful chat With pleasant friends, especially to one Who has been long away. The minutes run With speed that all the talkers marvel at. So much to talk about--so much to tell-- So many sleeping memories to awaken-- The various fates that absent friends befell-- Whom time has spared, and whom the grave has taken; The tear to shed for those who’ve passed away-- The sigh to breathe for those who’ve gone astray-- Our times of darkness, and our days of light-- Our purposes and plans for coming years-- Our heavenly hopes, our earthly human fears-- And lo! ’tis time to say, “Good-night, dear friends, good-night!”
_MacKellar._
TUBEROSE.... _Dangerous Love_.
The superb Tuberose is a native of the East Indies and South America, and was introduced into Europe in 1632. It has since spread all over the world. The flower is of a white colour, sometimes tinged with a blush of pink. Its perfume is delicious and powerful; but if you would enjoy it without danger, keep at some distance from the plant. If you come with the object of your affection to inhale its perfume by moonlight, when the nightingale is pouring forth its ravishing melody, these odours will add an inexpressible charm to your enjoyment; but, if, regardless of the precepts of moderation, you approach too near, this divine flower will then be but an enchantress who will pour a dangerous poison into your bosom. Thus the love which comes from above purifies and exalts; but that which springs from earth debases and proves the bane of imprudent youth.
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Yes, Love is but a dangerous guest For hearts as young as thine, Where youth’s unshadowed joys should rest, Life’s spring-time fancies shine. Then, sweetest, leave the wildering dream, Till Time has nerved thy heart To brook the fitful cloud and gleam, Which must in love have part.
_Mrs. Osgood._
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The Tuberose, with her silvery light, That in the gardens of Malay Is called the mistress of the night, So like a bride, scented and bright, She comes out when the sun’s away.
_Moore._
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If all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd’s tongue, These pleasures might my passions move, To live with thee and be thy love. So fading flowers in every field, To winter floods their treasures yield; A honeyed tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
_Sir Walter Raleigh._
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Instability and change are written On us and all our works. The loveliest things, When full of promise, oftentimes are smitten; And sweetest roses foster hidden stings. The world, if loved too well, doth ever pall, And the poor fool who set his heart thereon Is doomed to see his hope in ruins fall, Its frail foundation undermined and gone.
_MacKellar._
DAHLIA.... _Elegance and Dignity_.
The Dahlia is a native of South America, but is now extensively cultivated in Europe and North America. The shrub grows to a considerable height, and the flowers are large and beautiful. The most common colours are crimson and purple. No more appropriate emblem of elegance and dignity of carriage could have been selected. These qualities strike us at the first view of the Dahlia.
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I loved thee for thy high-born grace, Thy deep and lustrous eye-- For the sweet meaning of thy brow, And for thy bearing high. I loved thee for thy stainless truth, Thy thirst for higher things, For all that to our common lot A better temper brings. And are they not all thine--still thine? Is not thy heart as true? Holds not thy step its noble grace? Thy cheek its dainty hue? And have I not an ear to hear? And a cloudless eye to see-- And a thirst for beautiful human thought, That first was stirred by thee?
_Willis._
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Why, a stranger--when he sees her, In the street even smileth stilly, Just as you would at a lily.
_Miss Barrett._
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Her grace of motion and of look, the smooth And swimming majesty of step and tread, The symmetry of form and feature, set The soul afloat, even like delicious airs Of flute and harp.
_Milman._
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Her glossy hair was clustered o’er a brow Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth; Her eyebrow’s shape was like the aërial bow, Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth, Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow, As if her veins ran lightning.
_Byron._
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Do but look on her eyes! they do light All that love’s world compriseth; Do but look on her hair! it is bright As love’s star, when it riseth! Do but mark,--her forehead’s smoother Than words that soothe her! And from her arched brows such a grace Sheds itself through the face, As alone there triumphs to the life, All the gain, all the good, of the element’s strife.
_Jonson._
CAMELLIA JAPONICA.... _Modest Merit_.
The Camellia Japonica is a native of China and Japan. It is a large, evergreen tree. The flowers are large, of the form of a rose of variegated hues--the red prevailing--and without fragrance. It is made the emblem of modest worth, because, as Roscoe observes, “it boasts no fragrance, and conceals no thorn.”
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Let other bards of angels sing, Bright suns without a spot; But thou art no such perfect thing, Rejoice that thou art not. True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved; Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
_Wordsworth._
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Oh, that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not derived corruptly! and that dear honour Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! How many then should cover, that stand bare? How many be commanded, that command? How much low peasantry would then be gleaned From the true seed of honour? and how much honour Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times, To be new varnished?
_Shakspeare._
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There’s a proud modesty in merit! Averse from asking, and resolved to pay Ten times the gift it asks.
_Dryden._
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Oh, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom; When it deserves with characters of brass A forted residence ’gainst the tooth of time, And razure of oblivion.
_Shakspeare._
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Thine is a mind of maiden artlessness! Unstained, undarkened, by the dross of earth; A soul, that through thine eyes, bright beams express Thy nature, e’en as noble as thy birth; Whose every glance reflects the gem enshrined, Worthy a form so fair; the diamond of the mind.
_Anon._
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His resting-place is noted by a stone Of whitest marble: truthful words are those Inscribed thereon. The scene of his repose Befits his life: ’twas beautiful and calm. In meekness and in love he went his way, Uprightly walking--filling up the day With useful deeds. He often poured the balm Of healing into wounded breasts; nor sought The praise of men in doing good.
_MacKellar._
THORN-APPLE.... _Deceitful Charms_.
The flowers of the Thorn-Apple droop while the sun shines beneath their dull-looking foliage, but on the approach of night, they revive, display their charms, and unfold their prodigious bells, which nature has coloured with purple, lined with ivory; and to which she has given an odour that attracts and intoxicates, but is so dangerous as to stupify those who inhale it even in the open air. It is a dangerous plant to be allowed to grow where children go, as the beauty of its flowers and fruit is liable to tempt them to their destruction; since it possesses so poisonous a quality as to produce paralysis, and even madness, in those who have eaten it. Its leaves have been recommended for coughs and asthma. The charms of the Thorn-Apple flower are beautiful, but deadly; like those of the corrupt and treacherous, to be found in every society.
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But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow-falls in the river, A moment white--then melts for ever; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow’s lovely form Envanishing amid the storm.
_Burns._
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O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
_Shakspeare._
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Get thee glass eyes; And like a scurvy politician, seem To see the things thou dost not.
_Shakspeare._
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Women of kind have conditions three: The first is,--they be full of deceit, To spinne also is their property, And women have a wonderful conceit, For they can weep oft, and all is a sleight, And ever when they list, a tear is in the eye, Beware, therefore,--the blind eateth many a fly.
_Chaucer._
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Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!
_Shakspeare._
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Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep; And in his simple show he harbours treason. The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb. No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.
_Shakspeare._
LADY’S SLIPPER.... _Capricious Beauty_.
The Lady’s Slipper is well known in Europe and America. The plant is small, but produces a considerable number of flowers, of variegated hues. This flower is made the emblem of capricious beauty, because she seems,
----With her changeful hues, As she were doubtful which array to choose.
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I saw thee in the gay saloon Of Fashion’s glittering mart, Where Mammon buys what Love deplores, Where Nature yields to Art; And thou wert so unlike the herd My kindling heart despised, I could not choose but yield that heart, Though Love were sacrificed. The smile which hung upon thy lips, In transport with their tone, The music of thy thoughts, which breathed A magic theirs alone! The looks which spake a soul so pure, So innocent and gay, Have passed, like other golden hopes Of happiness, away.
_Dawes._
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Her eyes Are blue and beautiful, and flash out gleams Of diamond light, like that which brightly beams On stilly summer nights from starlit skies. Her cheeks are tinted with the blushing dyes Which Heaven--so wisely bountiful--bestows In virgin freshness on the modest rose.
_MacKellar._
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Most fair is e’er most fickle. A fair girl Is like a thousand beauteous things of earth, But most like them in love of change.
_Peerbold._
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We gaze and turn away, and know not where, Dazzled and drunk with beauty, till the heart Reels with its fulness.
_Byron._
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Beauty gives The features perfectness, and to the form Its delicate proportions: she may stain The eye with a celestial blue--the cheek With carmine of the sunset; she may breathe Grace into every motion, like the play Of the least visible tissue of a cloud: She may give all that is within her own Bright cestus--and one glance of intellect, Like stronger magic, will outshine it all.
_Willis._
ALTHEA.... _Consumed by Love_.
The name and signification of the Althea is derived from the Grecian fable of Althea and her son, who lost his life in consequence of his love for the beautiful Atalanta. His consuming away as the fatal brand was burning, suggested the emblem of consumed by love. The Althea is a shrub from five to seven feet in height, and is a native of the East Indies. The flowers are about the size of the common rose, and either of a white or pink hue.
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There is an all-consuming passion here; But ’tis a vestal flame, which worships thee!
_Anon._
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Like Ixion, I look on Juno, feel my heart turn to cinders With an invisible fire; and yet should she Deign to appear clothed in a various cloud, The majesty of the substance is so sacred I durst not clasp the shadow. I behold her With adoration, feast my eye, while all My other senses starve; and oft, frequenting The place which she makes happy with her presence, I never yet had power, with tongue or pen, To move her to compassion, or make known What ’tis I languish for; yet I must gaze still, Though it increase my flame.
_Massinger._
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With thee conversing, I forget all time; All seasons and their change, all please alike.
_Milton._
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Love is a region full of fires, And burning with extreme desires; An object seeks, of which possest, The wheels are still, the motions rest, The flames in ashes lie opprest; The meteor, striving high to rise, The fuel spent, falls down and dies.
_Beaumont._
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What scenes appear where’er I turn my view! The dear ideas, where’er I fly, pursue, Rise in the grave, before the altar rise, Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee, Thy image steals between my God and me; Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear, With every bead I drop too soft a tear. When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll, And swelling organs lift the rising soul, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight: In seas of flame my plunging soul is drowned, While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.
_Pope._
LARKSPUR.... _Flights of Fancy_.
Larkspur, Lark’s-claw, Lark-heels, and Lark’s-toe have been given in allusion to the long spur-like nectary, which has been whimsically supposed to represent these things, and many more. The Latin name, _Delphinium_, is from the Greek, Dolphin, because the nectary was thought like that fish. The French call it _Dauphinelle_, _pied d’alouette_, _l’épéron de chevalier_, (knight’s spur;) and the Italian, _speronella_, (little spur,) _sperone di cavaliere_, (knight’s spur,) and _fior regio_, (king-flower.) These names give quite a chivalric importance to the gentle flower, and furnish abundant subject for thought and fancy. Our own rural names give us a picture of the sky-lark; that “musical cherub,” soaring far and high into the blue summer heaven, above the lonely mountain-top, or over the busy town, and we can recall the delight of listening to his sweet melody.
_Louisa A. Twamley._
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For never yet was bosom found So dull of sense to music’s sound, As not to linger on the way, And list to his ascending lay, And upward gaze with straining sight, And see him melting into light; Till the eye fail its part to bear In concert with the hearing ear; And naught remain but what may seem Imagination’s fairy dream, Or the sweet strain, if such there were, Of Prospero’s spirit in the air. Oh, for that strength of voice and wing To sing and soar, to soar and sing; With all his joyousness of heart From earth’s encumbrances apart; And with heaven’s denizens on high To revel mid the calm clear sky!
_Mant._
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Fancy is a fairy, that can hear, Ever, the melody of nature’s voice, And see all lovely visions that she will.
_Mrs. Osgood._
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All impediments in fancy’s course Are motives of more fancy.
Shakspeare.
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Ever let the fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home; Then let winged Fancy wander Through the thoughts still spread beyond her: Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose, Every thing is spoilt by use.
_Kent._
DYER’S WEED.... _Relief_.