The following poem by Robert Herrick, entitled "Farewell Frost; or, Welcome Spring," is very descriptive, though not remarkable for the peculiar melody of sound usually found in his short, but sweet writings.

Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appeare
Recloth'd in freshe and verdant diaper;

Thawed are the snowes, and now the lusty spring
Gives to each mead a neat enameling;

The palmes put forth their

gemmes,

Now swaggers in her leavy gallantry.

and every tree

The while the Daulian minstrell sweetly sings,
With warbling notes, her Tyrrean sufferings,
What gentle winds respire! as if here
Never had been the northern plunderer,
To strip the trees and fields, to their distresse,
Leaving them in a pittied nakednesse.
And look how when a frantick storme doth teare
A stubborn oake or holme, long growing there,
But lul'd to calmnesse, then succeeds a breeze
That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees;
So when this warre, which tempest-like doth spoil
Our salt, our corne, our honie, wine, and oil,
Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast
His inconsiderate frenzie off, at last,

The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease,
Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of peace.

The changes from winter to spring, and from a time of war to that of peace, are here very happily compared, but in our flower legends Herrick will be heard to greatest advantage; in grace, fancy, and the most melodious cadences of verse, he is unrivalled, either by old or modern writers. Yet while thus eulogising his really sweet poems, I ought perhaps to

add, that these shine out but as straggling stars in a clouded sky; and that in the entire collection of his works there is far more to pass over than to pause and admire; a selection of Herrick's poems would form so valuable and delightful volume I much wonder such a work has not yet appeared.

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The gallant and graceful Earl Surrey, the lover of the fair Geraldine, has dedicated one of his sweetest sonnets to "A Description of Spring, in which eche thing renews, save only the lover."

The soote season, that bud and bloome forthe brings,
With grene hath clad the hill, and eke the vale;
The nightingall, with fethers new, she sings,
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale.
Somer is come; for every spray now springs,

The hart hath hung his old head on the pale,
The bucke in brake his winter coat he flings,
The fishes flete with new repayred scale.
The adder all her slough away she flings,

The swallow swift pursueth the flies smale,
The busy bee, her honey now she mings,

Winter is worne, that was the flouer's bale;
And thus I see among these pleasant thynges
Eche care decays, and yet my sorrow sprynges.

Of all the attributes of Spring Flowers take the precedence; the very mention of "the soote season" brings with it the thought of the "bud and bloom" that form its chiefest beauty, and ere

well apparelled April on the heel

Of limping Winter treads,

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we are eagerly longing for the time, when

Daisies pied, and violets blue,

And lady smocks all silver white,
And cuckoo buds of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows with delight.

How gracefully linked together in perfect poesy are the few sweet spring flowers which our divine Shakspeare represents the fair Perdita as wishing for to present to her guests—

O Proserpina,

For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall

From Dis's waggon! Daffodils

That come before the swallow dares, and take

The winds of March with beauty. Violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath. Pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength; a malady
Most incident to maids. Bold oxlips, and
The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one.

Having culled most of Shakspeare's floral gems for introduction in other parts of the present volume, I will only select one or two more groups of flowers, and then pass on to the fables, &c., connected with those forming the illustrations of Spring.

Ben Jonson- rare Ben Jonson"- has a most beautiful scene in "Pan's Anniversary," where all the flowers familiarly known are thus lightly yet richly grouped.

Strew, strew the glad and smiling ground
With every flower, yet not confound.

The primrose drop, the Spring's own spouse,
Bright day's-eyes, and the lips of cows,

The garden star, the queen of May,
The rose, to crown the holyday.

Drop, drop your violets, change your hues,
Now red, now pale, as lover's use;
And in your death go out as well
As when you lived unto the smell:
That from your odour all may say
This is the shepherd's holyday.

SHEPHERD.

Well done, my pretty ones

-rain roses still,

Until the last be dropt; then hence, and fill
Your fragrant prickles for a second shower.
Bring corn-flags, tulips, and Adonis flower,
Fair ox-eye, goldy-locks, and columbine,

Pinks, goulands, king-cups, and sweet sops-in-wine,
Blue hare-bells, pagles, pansies, calaminth,
Flower-gentle, and the fair-haired hyacinth,
Bring rich carnations, flower-de-luces, lilies,
The chequed and purple-ringed daffodillies,
Bright crown-imperial, kingspear, hollyhocks,
Sweet Venus'-navel, and soft lady-smocks,
Bring too some branches forth of Daphne's hair,
And gladdest myrtle for these posts to wear,
With spikenard weaved, and marjoram between,
And starred with yellow golds, and meadow's queen,

That when the altar, as it ought, is drest,

More odour comes not from the phoenix's nest,

The breath thereof Panchaia may envy,

The colours China, and the light the sky.

Ben Jonson, with most of the old poets, studiously preserved the sense of the name given to each flower: for instance, instead of daisy, a word which at first seems to mean nothing, he says "bright day's-eyes," the flower having received that name from its habit of closing up in rainy weather and at night. Besides " eye of the day," it was also named " marguerite," a pearl, under which title it is celebrated by Chaucer.

In Feverere, whan that it was colde,

Froste, snowe, haile, raine, hath dominacion,
With changable elementes, and windes manifolde,
Which hath of ground, flowre, herbe, jurisdicion,
For to dispose aftir their correcion;

And yet Aprillis, with his plesant showres,
Dissolveth the snow, and bringeth forth his flowres.

Of whose invencion lovirs may be glade,
For they bring in the Kalendis of Maie,
And they, with countenance demure, meke,
Owe worship to the lusty flowres alwaie.
And in special one called iye of the daie,

The daisie, or flowir white and rede,

And in Frenchie called La belle Marguérite.

Chaucer's love of the daisy is most fully and beautifully expressed in the "Prologue to the Legende of goode Women," one of the many gems we find in his works. He describes his great fondness for study, and how he delights in reading his "olde bookes," for which he has such faith and credence that no sport nor gaine can entice him away from them.