The plant-lore & garden-craft of Shakespear, Henry Nicholson Ellacombe [read with me .TXT] 📗
- Author: Henry Nicholson Ellacombe
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And Lady-smocks all silver-white,
And Cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight."
In "Hamlet" Daisies are twice mentioned in connection with Ophelia in her madness. "There's a Daisy!" she said, as she distributed her flowers; but she made no comment on the Daisy as she did on her other flowers. And, in the description of her death, the Queen tells us that—
Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, and Long Purples."
And in "Cymbeline" the General Lucius gives directions for the burial of Cloten—
Find out the prettiest Daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave."
And in the introductory song to the "Two Noble Kinsmen," which is claimed by some as Shakespeare's, we find among the other flowers of spring—
These are the only places in which the Daisy is mentioned in Shakespeare's plays, and it is a little startling to find that of these six one is in a song for clowns, and two others are connected with the poor mad princess. I hope that you will not use Shakespeare's authority against me, that to talk of Daisies is only fit for clowns and madmen.
Contemporary with Shakespeare was Cutwode, who in the "Caltha Poetarum," published in 1599, thus describes the Daisy—
that pretty Primula of Lady Ver
As handmaid to her Mistresse day and night
so doth she watch, so waiteth she on her,
With double diligence, and dares not stir,
A fairer flower perfumes not forth in May
Then is this Daisie or this Primula.
with double sets most brave and broad bespread,
Resembling lovely Lawn or Cambrick stuffe
pind up and prickt upon her yealow head,
Wearing her haire on both sides of her shead;
And with her countenance she hath acast
Wagging the wāton with each wynd and blast."
Stanza 21, 22.
Drayton, in the "Polyolbion," 15th Song, represents the Naiads engaged in twining garlands for the marriage of Tame and Isis, and considering that he—
(His bride that better fitteth), but only such as spring
From the replenisht meads and fruitful pasture neere,"
they collect among other wild flowers—
As nature doth herself, to imitate her right;
Who seems in that her pearle so greatly to delight
That every plaine therewith she powdereth to beholde."
And to the same effect, in his "Description of Elysium"—
Nor once their beauties lose,
That when proud Phœbus turns his face,
Themselves they scorn to close."
Browne, contemporary with Shakespeare, has these pretty lines on the Daisy—
A golden tuft within a silver crown;
(Fair fall that dainty flower! and may there be
No shepherd graced that doth not honour thee!)."
Brit. Past., ii. 3.
And the following must be about the same date—
Her love to Phœbus, bred her woe;
(Who joys to see his cheareful face,
And mournes when he is not in place)—
'Alacke! alacke! alacke!' quoth she,
'There's none that ever loves like me.'"
The Deceased Maiden's Lover—Roxburghe Ballads, i, 341.
I am not surprised to find that Milton barely mentions the Daisy. His knowledge of plants was very small compared to Shakespeare's, and seems to have been, for the most part, derived from books. His descriptions of plants all savour more of study than the open air. I only know of two places in which he mentions the Daisy. In the "l'Allegro" he speaks of "Meadows trim with Daisies pied," and in another place he speaks of "Daisies trim." But I am surprised to find the Daisy overlooked by two such poets as Robert Herrick and George Herbert. Herrick sang of flowers most sweetly, few if any English poets have sung of them more sweetly, but he has little to say of the Daisy. He has one poem, indeed, addressed specially to a Daisy, but he simply uses the little flower, and not very successfully, as a peg on which to hang the praises of his mistress. He uses it more happily in describing the pleasures of a country life—
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee,
What sweets the country can afford,
Shall bless thy bed and bless thy board.
. . . Thou shalt eat
The paste of Filberts for thy bread,
With cream of Cowslips buttered;
Thy feasting tables shall be hills,
With Daisies spread and Daffodils."
And again—
To exercise their dancing feet,
Tripping the comely country round,
With Daffodils and Daisies crowned."
George Herbert had a deep love for flowers, and a still deeper love for finding good Christian lessons in the commonest things about him. He delights in being able to say—
Grow green and gay;"
but I believe he never mentions the Daisy.
Of the poets of the seventeenth century I need only make one short quotation from Dryden—
To which a lady sang a tirelay:
And still at every close she would repeat
The burden of the song—'The Daisy is so sweet,
The Daisy is so sweet'—when she began
The troops of knights and dames continued on
The consort; and the voice so charmed my ear
And soothed my soul that it was heaven to hear."
I need not dwell on the other poets of the seventeenth century. In most of them a casual allusion to the Daisy may be found, but little more. Nor need I dwell at all on the poets of the eighteenth century. In the so-called Augustan age of poetry, the Daisy could not hope to attract any attention. It was the correct thing if they had to speak of the country to speak of the "Daisied" or "Daisy-spangled" meads, but they could not condescend to any nearer approach to the little flower. If they had they would have found that they had chosen their epithet very badly. I never yet saw a "Daisy-spangled" meadow.[370:1] The flowers may be there, but the long Grasses effectually hide them. And so I come per saltum to the end of the eighteenth century, and at once to Burns, who brought the Daisy again into notice. He thus regrets the uprooting of the Daisy by his plough—
Thou'st met me in an evil hour;
For I must crush amongst the stour
Thy slender stem.
To spare thee now is past my power,
Thou bonny gem.
Upon thy humble birth,
Yet cheerfully thou venturest forth
Amid the storm,
Scarce reared above the Parent-earth
Thy tender form.
High sheltering woods and walks must shield;
But thou, between the random bield
Of clod or stone,
Adorn'st the rugged stubble field,
Unseen, alone.
Thy snowy bosom sunward spread,
Thou lift'st thy unassuming head
In humble guise;
But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!"
With Burns we may well join Clare, another peasant poet from Northamptonshire, whose poems are not so much known as they deserve to be. His allusions to wild flowers always mark his real observation of them, and his allusions to the Daisy are frequent; thus—
The lovely Daisies blow,
Unconscious of the careless feet
That lay their beauties low."
Again, alluding to his own obscurity—
Is all that I shall have,
Save that the little Daisies creep
To deck my humble grave."
Again, in his description of evening, he does not omit to notice the closing of the Daisy at sunset—
And the birds forget their song;
Flowers now sleep within their hoods,
Daisies button into buds."
And so we come to Wordsworth, whose love of the Daisy almost equalled Chaucer's. His allusions and addresses to the Daisy are numerous, but I have only space for a small selection. First, are two stanzas from a long poem specially to the Daisy—
Thee Winter in the garland wears,
That thinly shades his few gray hairs,
Spring cannot shun thee.
While Summer fields are thine by right,
And Autumn, melancholy wight,
Doth in thy crimson head delight
When rains are on thee.
Thy course, bold lover of the sun,
And cheerful when thy day's begun
As morning leveret.
Thy long-lost praise thou shalt regain,
Dear shalt thou be to future men,
As in old time, thou not in vain
Art nature's favourite."
The other poem from Wordsworth that I shall read to you is one that has received the highest praise from all readers, and by Ruskin (no mean critic, and certainly not always given to praises) is described as "two delicious stanzas, followed by one of heavenly imagination."[372:1] The poem is "An Address to the Daisy"—
A sprightly maiden—of love's court,
In thy simplicity the sport
Of all temptations.
A queen in crown of rubies drest,
A starveling in a scanty vest,
Are all, as seems to suit thee best,
Thy appellations.
And then thou art a pretty star,
Not quite so fair as many are
In heaven above thee.
Yet like a star with glittering crest,
Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;
Let peace come never to his rest
Who shall reprove thee.
When all my reveries are past,
I call thee, and to that cleave fast.
Sweet silent creature,
That breath'st with me in sun and air;
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
My heart with gladness, and a share
Of thy meek nature."
With these beautiful lines I might well conclude my notices of the poetical history of the Daisy, but, to bring it down more closely to our own times, I will remind you of a poem by Tennyson, entitled "The Daisy." It is a pleasant description of a southern tour brought to his memory by finding a dried Daisy in a book. He says—
And up the snowy Splugen drew,
But ere we reached the highest summit,
I plucked a Daisy, I gave it you,
It told of England then to me,
And now it tells of Italy."
Thus I have picked several pretty flowers of poetry for you from the time of Chaucer to our own. I could have made the posy fifty-fold
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