136 
POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
many dyes as there were varied hues in the flowers, 
amid which they were twined. At the foot of the 
Maypole stood a rustic throne of trellis-work, covered 
with flowers and branches of Hawthorn blossoms, 
drooping in many a graceful form ; and on it was seat¬ 
ed the Queen of May, her beautiful brow crowned with 
a simple wreath of wild roses; while, hand in hand, 
young men and village maidens formed a circle around 
her, and, with smiling faces, timed their feet to the 
music of an old-fashioned country dance. At a distance 
stood the wealthy squire, surrounded by his family, his 
face beaming with smiles, as he gazed upon the merry 
group before him, and pointed proudly to his youngest 
daughter, who sat crowned the Queen of May. For 
ages past had some high-born daughter of the hall laid 
aside her dignity for the day, and condescended to pre¬ 
side over their May games. Many a proud beauty who 
now slept in the dark vault beneath the chancel pave¬ 
ment, had, in the rose-bloom of youth and loveliness, 
left her old ancestral hearth and mounted the flowery 
throne on the village green, to do reverence to May ; 
but never before had there stepped out, from that long 
gallery of departed beauties, one lovelier than she who 
now sat the crowned queen of the month of flowers. 
