WALLFLOWER.

FIDELITY IN MISFORTUNE.

THE Wallflower derives its name from the circumstance of its growing upon old walls, and being seen on the casements or battlements of ancient castles, among the ruins of abbeys, and on turrets and cottages. Hence the minstrels and troubadours were accustomed to wear a bouquet of Wallflowers, as the emblem of an affection which is proof against time and misfortune.

Modern poets have not been backward to acknowledge the merits of this beautiful and fragrant flower.

To me it speaks of loveliness,
That passes not with youth,
Of beauty which decay can bless,
Of constancy and truth.

But, in adversity's dark hour,

When glory is gone by,

And our friend Moir (Delta of Blackwood's Magazine) pays this feeling tribute to the Wallflower.

The Wallflower, the Wallflower!

How beautiful it blooms!

It gleams above the ruined tower,
Like sunlight over tombs;
It sheds a halo of repose

Around the wrecks of time;
To beauty give the flaunting rose-
The Wallflower is sublime.

Flower of the solitary place!
Gray Ruin's golden crown,
That lendest melancholy grace
To haunts of old Renown;

Thou mantlest o'er the battlements
By strife or storm decay'd;
And fillest up each envious rent
Time's canker-tooth hath made.

Whither hath fled the choral band
That filled the abbey's nave!

Yon dark sepulchral yew-trees stand
O'er many a level grave.

In the belfry's crevices, the dove

Her young brood nurseth well,

Whilst thou, lone flower, doth shed above A sweet, decaying smell.

In the season of the tulip-cup,

When blossoms clothe the trees, How sweet to throw the lattice up, And scent thee on the breeze! The butterfly is then abroad,

The bee is on the wing,

And on the hawthorn by the road

The linnets sit and sing.

Sweet Wallflower, sweet Wallflower!

Thou conjurest up to me
Full many a soft and sunny hour
Of boyhood's thoughtless glee;
When joy from out the daisies grew
In woodland pastures green,

And summer skies were far more blue
Than since they e'er have been.

Now Autumn's pensive voice is heard
Amid the yellow bowers:

The robin is the regal bird,

And thou the queen of flowers!
He sings on the laburnum trees,
Amid the twilight dim,

And Araby ne'er gave the breeze
Such scents as thou to him.

Rich is the pink, the lily gay,
The rose is summer's guest;

Bland are thy charms when these decay
Of flowers first, last, and best!
There may be gaudier in the bower,
And statelier on the tree-

But Wallflower, loved Wallflower,
Thou art the flower for me!

NARCISSUS AND DAFFODIL.

SELF-LOVE.

THE ancients attributed the origin of this flower to the metamorphosis of a beautiful youth named Narcissus, who, having slighted the love of the nymph Echo, became enamoured of his own image, which he beheld in a fountain, and pined to death in consequence.

Here young Narcissus o'er the fountain stood,
And viewed his image in the crystal flood;
The crystal flood reflects his lovely charms,
And the pleased image strives to meet his arms.
No nymph his inexperienced breast subdued,
Echo in vain the flying boy pursued.
Himself alone the foolish youth admires,
And with fond look the smiling shade desires.

O'er the smooth lake with fruitless tears he grieves;
His spreading fingers shoot in verdant leaves:
Through his pale veins green sap now gently flows;
And in a short-lived flower his beauty blows.
Let vain Narcissus warn each female breast
That beauty's but a transient good at best;
Like flowers, it withers with the advancing year,
And age, like winter, robs the blooming fair.

GAY.