LOVE AND THE FLOWERS. 
25 
Fearlessly did he approach with them in his hand- 
lie looked not, he spoke not: the watchful guardian 
smiled grimly upon his drawn scimitar, believing that 
its sharp edge had cut asunder every cord of love; for 
he saw not the bright eye that peeped out from every 
bud —he beheld not the sweet lips that bent forward 
from every blossom. He heard not the language which 
the flowers uttered, and he saw not how Love looked 
on and laughed, as he noted every word which went 
back, and sank unperceived into the heart. 
Ages passed away before Love entered the flowery 
fields and velvet valleys of merry England ; his heart 
had long been light, and his wings unfettered, and he 
cared not now into what quarter of the world he wan¬ 
dered, for he found that wherever he went upon his 
flowery errand, man grew more refined, and woman 
each day bore a closer resemblance to the angels. He 
visited ancient castles and humble hamlets, and throng¬ 
ed thorpes, and thatched granges, and taught every¬ 
where this new language of love. If he saw a rustic 
maiden with her head hanging aside, and her hands 
clasped, he plucked the fragrant blossom of the Haw¬ 
thorn, and, throwing it at her feet, he whispered into her 
ear and bade her Hope. As his foot dashed away the 
