PENTANJDRIA. MONOGYNIA. Viola 
327 
V. palus'tris. (Leaves kidney-shaped, smooth: root creeping. E.) 
(E. Bot. 444. E.)— Curt. 217—Abbot. FI Bed. p. 190 —FI. Dan. 73—H. 
Ox. v. 35. row 2.f. 1— Pet. 37. 5 — Allion. 2. 2. 
the Old Testament, as Ezekiel xxiii. 40—“ Lo, they came, for whom thou didst wash thy¬ 
self, paintedst thine eyes, and deckest thyself with ornaments.”—Lord Bacon passes an 
elegant encomium on the Violet, and recommends those who wish to enjoy the delicate 
fragrance for more than twelve months to prepare vinegar with the flowers repeatedly 
infused. In a recent state they may be long preserved in apartments by placing them 
in saucers containing sand, moistened with salt and water. It is impossible to describe 
this general favourite, so intimately connected with fond associations and tender senti¬ 
ments, without acknowledging her to be one of the most lovely satellites in the train of 
Flora. In the chivalrous age of the Troubadours, this retired emblem of modesty, 
“ The Violet blue that on the moss-bank grows,” 
wa? selected as the prototype of the golden prize awarded annually on May-day to the most 
meritorious competitor in poetry ; and thus was instituted at Toulouse a society which 
subsequently became more extended as the Academy of Floral Games. In times nearer our 
own, the celebrated Marmontel became a successful candidate for the Golden Violet, and has 
recorded the incident in a lively and not uninstructive tale. The true blue of the Violet has 
ever been assimilated with fidelity, as thus in the old sonnet,— 
“ Violet is for faithfulnesse 
Which in me shall abide; 
Hoping likewise that from your heart 
You will not let it slide.” 
The several exquisite passages of the Poet of Nature relative to this flower, though tran¬ 
scendent, are too well known to need insertion here; but the delicate pathos of Mrs. 
Radcliffe’s stanzas may not be excluded; 
“ But yonder little Violet flower. 
That, folded in its purple veil, 
And trembling to the lightest gale, 
Weeps beneath that shadowing bower. 
Is just like love ! 
Though filled with dew its closing eyes, 
Though bends its slender stem in air, 
It breathes perfume and blossoms fair; 
It feeds on tears, and lives on sighs, 
Just like love ! 
Nor can we resist 
And should, a sun-beam kiss its leaf. 
How bright the dew-drops would appear, 
Like beams of hope upon a tear, 
Like light of smiles through parting grief! 
And just like love !” 
following to 
“ The first-born Child of the early Sun. 
******* * 
She lifts up her dewy eye of blue, 
To the younger sky of the self-same hue. 
And when the Spring comes with her host 
Of flowers, that flower beloved the most 
Shrinks from the crowd, that may confuse 
Her heavenly odour and virgin hues. 
Pluck the others, but still remember 
Their herald out of dim December— 
The morning star of all the flowers, 
The pledge of day-light’s lengthen’d hours ; 
Nor, midst the Roses ere forget 
The virgin, virgin Violet 
Or omit a few lines from the peasant-poet Clare : 
