170 POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
sooner did the early spring come, and he was released 
from his duties, than he hastened back on the wings 
of love to the ancient manor-house. The Lady Ellen 
was walking in the pleached alleys of the garden 
when he alighted from his steed, and bearing, as fce 
did, about him the marks of haste and travel, he hur¬ 
ried to pay his respects to her before he entered the 
hall. As he took her hand, he thought that she had 
never before appeared so beautiful. After a long con¬ 
versation, during which time flew by unheeded, he 
looked at the few pale Snowdrops which she held be¬ 
tween the whiteness of her fingers, and the small sprig 
of a hardy biennial Stock, which had flowered before 
its time, and said, with a smile, while his voice was 
tremulous with the earnestness of his emotion, “ Sweet 
lady, you now hold the emblems of Hope and Beauty 
in your handand, gathering a bunch of blossoms 
from the Peach, which already bloomed upon the old 
garden-wall, he added, “You are, like myself, well 
versed in the meanings which the old poets have at¬ 
tributed to the flowers. Sweet lady mine, place this 
before the Snowdrop, then read me the sentence, that 
I may know whether or not you have forgotten the 
Language of Flowers which we studied together last 
