Part 42

CAMELLIA JAPONICA.... Modest Merit.

The Camellia Japonica is a native of China and Japan. It is a large, evergreen tree. The flowers are large, of the form of a rose of variegated hues--the red prevailing--and without fragrance. It is made the emblem of modest worth, because, as Roscoe observes, “it boasts no fragrance, and conceals no thorn.”

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Let other bards of angels sing, Bright suns without a spot; But thou art no such perfect thing, Rejoice that thou art not. True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved; Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.

Wordsworth.

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Oh, that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not derived corruptly! and that dear honour Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! How many then should cover, that stand bare? How many be commanded, that command? How much low peasantry would then be gleaned From the true seed of honour? and how much honour Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times, To be new varnished?

Shakspeare.

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There’s a proud modesty in merit! Averse from asking, and resolved to pay Ten times the gift it asks.

Dryden.

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Oh, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom; When it deserves with characters of brass A forted residence ’gainst the tooth of time, And razure of oblivion.

Shakspeare.

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Thine is a mind of maiden artlessness! Unstained, undarkened, by the dross of earth; A soul, that through thine eyes, bright beams express Thy nature, e’en as noble as thy birth; Whose every glance reflects the gem enshrined, Worthy a form so fair; the diamond of the mind.

Anon.

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His resting-place is noted by a stone Of whitest marble: truthful words are those Inscribed thereon. The scene of his repose Befits his life: ’twas beautiful and calm. In meekness and in love he went his way, Uprightly walking--filling up the day With useful deeds. He often poured the balm Of healing into wounded breasts; nor sought The praise of men in doing good.

MacKellar.

THORN-APPLE.... Deceitful Charms.

The flowers of the Thorn-Apple droop while the sun shines beneath their dull-looking foliage, but on the approach of night, they revive, display their charms, and unfold their prodigious bells, which nature has coloured with purple, lined with ivory; and to which she has given an odour that attracts and intoxicates, but is so dangerous as to stupify those who inhale it even in the open air. It is a dangerous plant to be allowed to grow where children go, as the beauty of its flowers and fruit is liable to tempt them to their destruction; since it possesses so poisonous a quality as to produce paralysis, and even madness, in those who have eaten it. Its leaves have been recommended for coughs and asthma. The charms of the Thorn-Apple flower are beautiful, but deadly; like those of the corrupt and treacherous, to be found in every society.

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But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow-falls in the river, A moment white--then melts for ever; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow’s lovely form Envanishing amid the storm.

Burns.

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O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?

Shakspeare.