LOVE AND THE FLOWERS. 
9 
the warrior now sat a captive at the feet of Beauty. 
He visited ancient castles and humble hamlets, and 
thronged thorpes and thatched granges, and taught 
everywhere this new language of love. If he saw a 
rustic maiden with her head hanging aside, and her 
hands clasped, he plucked the fragrant blossom of 
the Hawthorn, and throwing it at her feet, whispered 
into her ear and bade her hope. As his foot dashed 
away the dew from the up-coned Lilac, he gathered 
the topmost sprig and threw it at her unsuspecting 
lover, who from that moment dated his first Emo¬ 
tions of Love. He pointed out the spot where 
many a blue-belled flower grew, and there they met 
and vowed to be Constant unto Death ; and while 
they sat hand-in-hand gazing upon the white Water- 
Lilies that rested upon their thrones of green velvet, 
and were rocked by every ripple which curled the 
clear crystal of the lake, they felt that deep heaving 
of the heart which ever proclaimeth the Purity of 
Love. 
So he wandered along ; — and on wild moorlands, 
where rude huts rose, and scarce a flower broke the 
dark-brown solitude, Love left the broad Fern as a 
token of Sincerity : on bleak mountain-tops, where 
scarcely a tree threw down its chequered shadow to 
form a golden network upon the greensward, he 
planted the Harebell, and the crimson Heather, to 
give a charm to Retirement and Solitude. Into the 
