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Evelyn speaks of the broom as growing to an in¬ 
credible height in the western parts of France and in 
Cornwall, but we are better acquainted with it as a 
shrub of moderate size, forming the chief embellishment 
of waste broken ground, knolls and thickets. It has ever 
been a favourite with the rural muse ; Burns, Thomson, 
and Cowper, among others, have each “ given in charge 
its name to the sweet lyre;” and in the songs of our 
earlier bards it has a very prominent station. “ Broom,” 
says the editor of Scottish songs, “ flourishes frequently 
in old verse. It has been employed largely in lovers’ 
bowers; and though its bloom and its fragrance have 
yielded to bicks and hawthorn, it seems still the most 
sweet and natural bower that lyric poetry celebrates. 
This very fair and beautiful shrub,” he adds, “ though 
still plentiful, is far less abundant than formerly. I 
remember it in immense fields, waving nearly as far as 
the eye could reach, green, and long, and blooming; 
and in a windy day all the land near it was showered 
thickly over with its yellow flowers.” 
The broom, however, is not connected merely with 
pastoral images, but with historical associations of no 
common interest. Gefroi, Duke of Anjou, father of 
Henry the Second, chose it for his badge, and frequently 
wore a sprig of it in his cap; and from this circumstance, 
F 
