LOVE AND THE FLOWERS. 
7 
the rose, a voice to the lily, and hang upon the 
honeysuckle words of love, and turn every blossom 
6he gathers into the language of affection ? No ; I 
will again fly abroad, and dropping a bud here, and 
a bell there, see to what purpose she turneth these 
beautiful secrets. I will but at first teach her a few 
letters in this new Alphabet of Love.” 
Then he thought, that as the flowers were such 
holy things—born of beauty and nursed in purity, 
fed upon the dews, and seldom looking upon aught 
less sacred than the stars, as if they were more 
allied to heaven than to earth—that if the virtue, 
and goodness, and love, which they represent, were 
but practised by mankind, they would again make 
the children of earth what they were in the infancy 
of the world, and man would once more be ranked 
“ only a little lower than the angels.” 
Love flew to the burning East, where Beauty is 
guarded by jealous lattices, and Pride, armed with 
sharp scimitar, stands always ready, feeling its cold, 
keen edge, and waiting to cut every heart-sprung 
affection asunder ; to punish a fond look unac¬ 
companied by wealth, with death ; and to dig a 
grave for every hallowed feeling that is unattended 
by Power. Love dropped a few flowers in the 
guarded turret and then concealed himself. A 
white hand shaped them after the fond feelings of 
her heart, and then extended her rounded arm and 
