224 
LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS, 
its form their god Teut. Their priests, the Druids, 
offered sacrifices beneath it; their victims were 
crowned with Oak-leaves, and it was requisite that 
the piles of wood on which they were burned should 
be lighted with brands of Oak. 
By modern Britain the Oak, as furnishing the 
material of which our fleets are constructed, has 
justly been adopted as the emblem of her naval 
power — that power of which the first of our living 
poets proudly says: — 
Britannia needs no bulwarks, 
No towers along the steep; 
Her march is on the mountain wave, 
Her home is on the deep. 
Though our dusky forests are no longer the 
haunts of Hamadryads and fairies, still the aspect 
of a majestic Oak excites admiration and awe. 
When in youthful vigour, it rears its proud head 
and spreads its immense arms, it looks like a pro¬ 
tector, like a king. Shattered by the thunderbolt, 
stripped of its foliage, and motionless, it resembles 
an old man who has lived past his time, and who 
takes no interest in the pains and pleasures of the 
present age. The stormy winds sometimes strive 
