THE ASPEN 125 
matter whereof women’s tongues were made (as the 
poets and some others report), which seldom cease 
wagging.” Among many other allusions to this tree, 
Scott’s address to woman in Marmion, as 
“Variable as the shade 
By the light quivering Aspen made,” 
is one of the best known. Far more strikingly 
poetical is the old Scottish and English legend on 
the subject, so beautifully told by Mrs. Hemans: 
“. . . a cause more deep, 
More solemn far, the rustic doth assign 
To the strange restlessness of those wan leaves ; 
The cross, he deems, the blessed cross, whereon 
The meek Redeemer bowed His head to death, 
Was formed of Aspen wood, and since that hour 
Through all itsrace the pale tree hath sent down 
A thrilling consciousness, a secret awe, 
Making them tremulous, when not a breeze 
Disturbs the airy thistle-down, or shakes 
The light lines of the shining gossamer.”’ 
A very different version was thus strikingly 
narrated by a contributor to Notes and Queries 
many years ago :— 
“At that awful hour of the Passion, when the Saviour of the 
world felt deserted in His agony, when—‘The sympathising sun 
his light withdrew, And wonder’d how the stars their dying Lord 
could view’—when earth, shaking with horror, rang the passing 
bell for Deity, and universal nature groaned, then from the loftiest 
tree to the lowliest flower all felt a sudden thrill and, trembling, 
bowed their heads, all save the proud and obdurate Aspen, which 
said, ‘Why should we weep and tremble? We trees, and plants, 
and flowers are pure and never sinned!’ Ere it ceased to speak, an 
involuntary trembling seized its every leaf, and the word went forth 
that it should never rest, but tremble on until the day of judgment.” 
