THE ST. JOHN'S- WORT. 101 



The wonderful herb, whose leaf will decide 

 If the coming year shall make me a bride.' 



And the glow-worm came 



With its silvery flame, 



And sparkled and shone 



Thro' the night of St. John, 

 And soon has the young maid her love-knot tied. 



And with noiseless tread 



To her chamber she sped, 



Where the spectral moon her white beams shed: 

 ' Bloom here, bloom here, thou plant of power, 

 To deck the young bride, in her bridal hour !' 

 But it drooped its head, that plant of power, 

 And died the mute death of the voiceless flower, 

 And a withered wreath, on the ground it lay, 

 More meet for a burial, than bridal day. 

 And when a year was passed away 

 All pale on her bier the young maid lay ; 



And the glow-worm came 



With its silvery flame, 



And sparkled and shone 



Thro' the night of St. John, 

 And they closed the dark grave o'er the maid's cold clay." 



It is a curious circumstance that the greater part 

 of the superstitions connected with the night of 

 St. John relate to the vegetable world ; such as the 

 custom of flinging garlands on a flowing stream in 

 order to ascertain whether their maker will be suc- 

 cessful in love ; or seeking for the seed of the fern, 

 which it was formerly believed could only be found 

 on this night, and which, if secured, would enable 

 the wearer to become invisible. A belief thus alluded 

 to by Beaumont and Fletcher : 



" I have the recipe of fern-seed 

 I walk invisible." 



