216 
BRAMBLES AND BAY LEAVES. 
native skies, Madame de Stael writes :—“ This lovely 
woman, whose features seemed designed to depict 
felicity—this child of the sun, a prey to hidden grief— 
was like a flower, still fresh and brilliant, but within 
whose leaves may be seen the first dark impress of that 
withering blight which soon shall lay it low. . . . The 
long black lashes veiled her languid eyes, and threw a 
shadow over the tintless cheek.” Beneath was written 
this line from the “ Pastor Pido '' :— 
“ Scarcely can we say this was a rose.’* 
A similar passage occurs in a lament for Lady Jane 
Grey:—• 
" Thou didst die, 
Even as a flower beneath the summer ray, 
In incensed beauty ; and didst take thy way, 
Even like its fragrance, up into the sky.” 
J. W. Oed. 
In such a tone of subdued eloquence does the sister 
of Sir Philip Sydney mourn over the memory of her 
sainted and incomparable brother:—• 
u Break now your garlands, oh, ye shepherd lasses, 
Since the fair flower that them adorned is gone; 
The flower that them adorned is gone to ashes; 
Never again let lass put garland on : 
Instead of garland, wear sad cypress now, 
And bitter elder, broken from the bough.” 
The language of deep feeling is always poetical, and 
in every age of the world's history flowers have aided in 
giving force to the utterance of the heart's passion, 
whether of love, hate, sorrow, or joy. 
