Eglantine, 
(POETRY.) 
D EEMED by professors of the language of flowers em¬ 
blematical of that indescribable something which, for 
want of a better name, we agree to call Poetry, the Eglantine 
should indeed find favour with the votaries of that gentle 
art; and, might we reckon the value of their esteem for it by 
the number of sweet things they have said about it, we could 
put a high price upon its beauties. What wooer of the Muses 
has neglected to pay his passing tribute to the sweet-leaved 
eglantine ?—“ the rain-scented eglantine ; ” “ the sweet, the 
fresh, the fair,”—the eglantine to which the sun himself pays 
homage, by “ counting his dewy rosary ” on it every morning. 
This flower is indeed emphatically the poet’s flower, and in 
the floral games was the prize awarded him for his success. 
Ronsard, whom the elder D’Israeli styles the French Chaucer, 
was the first who carried off this well-earned booty. “ The 
meed of poetic honour,” says the above-quoted authority, “was 
an eglantine composed of silver. The reward did not appear 
equal to the merit of the work and the reputation of the poet; 
and on this occasion the city of Toulouse had a Minerva of 
solid silver struck of considerable value. This image was sent 
to Ronsard, accompanied by a decree in which he was declared, 
by way of eminence, ‘The French Poet.’” 
As a pendant to this fact, so honourable to all concerned, 
D’Israeli relates that when “at a later period, a similar Mi¬ 
nerva was adjudged to Maynard for his verses, the capitouls of 
Toulouse, who were the executors of the floral gifts, to their 
eternal shame, out of covetousness, never obeyed the decision 
of the poetical judges.” This circumstance is noticed by 
Maynard in an epigram which bears this title : “ On a Minerva 
of silver, promised but not given.” 
