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Violet. 
of the extract of violets above all other extracts is as the ex¬ 
cellence of me above all the rest of the creation : it is cold in 
summer, and it is hot in winterwhilst another legend hath 
that “ the excellence of the violet is as the excellence of El 
Islam above all other religions.” 
Arabic and Persian poets oft and o’er pluck similes from the 
petals of this perfumed blossom. Ebu Abrumi, an Arabian 
poet, uses a very trite comparison when he likens blue eyes 
weeping to violets bathed in dew. Amongst our English poets 
who have illustrated this image is Elizabeth Browning: 
‘ ‘ Dear violets, you liken to 
The kindest eyes that look on you 
Without a thought disloyal. ” 
And in the following lines on a faded violet, Shelley embodies 
the same pretty fancy : 
“The colour from the flower is gone, 
Which like thy sweet eyes smil’d on me; 
The odour from the flow’r is flown, 
Which breathed of thee, and only thee! 
“ A wither’d, lifeless, vacant form, 
It lies on my abandoned breast, 
And mocks the heart which yet is warm, 
With cold and silent rest. 
“ I “weep — my tears revive it not; 
I sigh — it breathes no more on me ; 
Its mute and uncomplaining lot 
Is such as mine should be.” 
The same poetic comparison is employed by Shakspeare in 
the “Winter’s Tale:” 
“Violets dim, 
But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes, 
Or Cytherea’s breath. ” 
The frequent allusions made to “ the nodding violet ” by the 
great dramatist causes it to be regarded as his favourite flower; 
and that, in the eyes of many, will not be one of its slightest 
charms. There is no more exquisite passage in the whole 
range of English poesy than that in “ Twelfth Night,” where 
the Duke, listening to plaintive music, desires 
“ That strain again ; it had a dying fall: 
Oh, it came o’er my ear like the sweet South, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing and giving odour.” 
