I 
THE QUEEN OF MAY. 133 
Surely we err in calling these the dark and barbaric 
ages, while they paid such worship to the flowers. 
Although they might lack the light of that knowledge 
which has since broken out and illuminated the earth, 
still they had a fine taste for the beautiful—a simple and 
earnest adoration for the lovely flowers of the field ; and 
wherever such a feeling exists, whether in the palace 
or in the cottage, it points out a refined mind, an ele¬ 
gant perception, and a heart alive to all that is pure 
and beautiful. How natural that so sweet-scented 
and common a blossom should be selected as the 
image of Hope ! for who could behold it without trust¬ 
ing that there were still better days in store? The 
disappointed or separated lover, while wandering in 
the cool shadows of green lanes, would, as he inhaled 
its fragrance, feel a new kind of joy breaking through the 
dark despondency of the heart, and hear Hope again 
whisper that the time might come, when she, whose 
presence had hallowed with love every pathway he 
traversed, should again be his companion, and make 
those rural rambles the happiest hours of his existence. 
The fair maiden, pale with love,—the citadel of whose 
heart had been stormed and won, only to be deserted 
and left desolate,—might find some comfort while 
