Part 39

That modest grace subdued my soul, That chastity of look which seems to hang A veil of purest light o’er all her beauties, And by forbidding most inflames desire.

Young.

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He saw her charming, but he saw not half The charms her downcast modesty concealed.

Thomson.

I confess Your majestic beauty Has awakened my first emotions of love.]

STOCK.... Lasting Beauty.

The Stock has been made the emblem of lasting beauty; because, though it is less graceful than the rose, and less majestic than the lily, its splendour is more durable, and its fragrance of longer continuance. Few flowering plants have been so much and so rapidly improved by cultivation as the Stock. Within the last two centuries, its nature has been almost entirely changed by the florist; and it is now a shrub whose branches are covered with blossoms little inferior in dimensions to the rose. Stocks are produced of various colours, but the bright red or carmine must ever remain the favourite variety. The principal branches of this fragrant family are the Ten-week Stock, so named from flowering about ten weeks after it is sown; and the Brompton, which does not bloom till about twelve months after sowing, and was first cultivated in the neighbourhood of Brompton, England.

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Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh, what were man!--a world without a sun!

Campbell.

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Beauty has gone; but yet her mind is still As beautiful as ever; still the play Of light around her lips has every charm Of childhood in its freshness.

Percival.

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The lily may die on thy cheek, With freshness no longer adorning; The rose that envelopes its whiteness may seek To take back her mantle of morning; Yet still will Love’s tenderness beam from thine eye, And ask for that homage no heart can deny.

Dawes.

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The glory of the human form Is but a perishing thing, and Love will droop When its brief grace hath faded. But the mind Perisheth not, and when the outward charm Hath had its brief existence, it awakes, And is the lovelier that it slept so long.

Willis.

Beauty lies As naturally upon his cheek as bloom Upon a peach. Like morning vapour, flies Before his smile my mind’s infrequent gloom. We tremble when we think that many a storm May beat upon him in the time to come,-- That his now beautiful and fragile form May bear a burden sore and wearisome. Yet, so the stain of guiltiness and shame Be never placed upon his soul and name,-- So he preserve his virtue though he die,-- And to his GOD, his race, his country prove A faithful man, whom praise nor gold can buy, Nor threats of vile, designing men can move,-- We ask no more.

MacKellar.

SCARLET GERANIUM.... Stupidity.

There are many varieties of the Geranium, distinguished by the shape and hue of the flowers and leaves, and the difference in their fragrance. The Scarlet Geranium is a very beautiful flower, but its scent is disagreeable. The following anecdote will give the reason of its being chosen as the emblem of stupidity. Madame de Staël was always angry when any of her acquaintance attempted to introduce a stupid person into her company. One day, one of her friends ventured to bring to her a young Swiss officer of most prepossessing exterior. The lady, pleased with his appearance, was very lively, and said a thousand flattering things to the new-comer, who seemed at first to be struck mute by surprise and admiration. When, however, he had listened to her for above an hour without opening his lips, she began to suspect the cause of his silence, and put to him such direct questions that he could not help answering. His answers were extremely silly! Madame de Staël, vexed at having thrown away her time and her wit, turned to her friend and said: “Indeed, sir, you are like my gardener, who thought to do me a pleasure by bringing me this morning a pot of Geranium: but I can tell you that I made him take back the flower, desiring him not to let me see it any more.” “And why so?” asked the young man in astonishment. “It was, since you wish to know, because the Geranium is a beautiful scarlet flower; while you look at it, it pleases the eye; but when you press it ever so slightly, it gives out a disagreeable smell.” So saying, Madame de Staël rose and went out of the room, leaving the young fool abashed and in confusion.

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This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well, craves a kind of wit.

Shakspeare.

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