LOVE AND THE FLOWERS. 27 
to Come. From flower to flower lie flew on his peace¬ 
ful pilgrimage: through them reconciling lovers who 
had long been estranged, and bringing back many a 
wandering affection that had long sighed for a fond 
heart to dwell within. 
Thus Love restored a language which for undated cen¬ 
turies had been lost—which the sweet tongue of woman 
had made music of before the beauty of the early world 
was submerged beneath the waters. For Time had all 
but blotted out the few records which told that there 
ever existed a language between Love and the Flowers. 
Amid the broken and crumbling ruins over which 
Time has marched, he has only left the sculptured 
capital of some column, or shattered pedestal, in which 
we can trace, among a hundred rude hieroglyphics, 
the rough outline of some flower, which was either 
sacred to their religion or their love. In the ruins of 
temples, whose origin even Antiquity has forgotten, 
we trace, in the life like marble of the figures, brows 
which are wreathed with blossoms, and in the broken 
fresco we find groups of maidens strewing the path¬ 
way which leads to the holy shrine with flowers, — 
the carven altar is piled high with them ; they garland 
the neck of the victim which their priests are about to 
