"Save certainly, whan that the month of Maie
Is comen, and that I hear the foules sing,
And that the floures ginnen for to spring,
Farewell my booke, and my devocion:
Now have I than eke this condicion,

That of all the floures in the mede

Than love I most these flowres white and rede,
Soch that men callen Daisies in our toun,
To hem I have so great affectioun,

As I sayd erst, whan comen is the Maie,
That in my bedde there daweth me no daie,
That I n'am up and walking in the mede
To see this floure ayenst the Sunne sprede
Whan it up riseth early by the morrow,
That blissful sight softeneth all my sorrow.
So glad am I, whan that I have presence
Of it, to done it alle reverence,
As she that is of alle floures the floure,
Fulfilled of all vertue and honoure,
And every ylike faire, and fresh of hewe,
And ever I love it, and ever ylike newe,
And ever shall, till that mine herte die,
Alle sweare I not, of this I woll not lie.”

He then tells how, at evening, he goes to watch,

"As soon as ever the Sunne ginneth west
Go seen this floure, how it will goe to rest,
For feare of night, so hateth she darknesse,
Her chere is plainly spred in the brightnesse
Of the Sunne, for there it woll unclose:

He then complains that he has neither rhyme nor prose “suffisaunt this floure to praise aright," and describes his eagerness

to

go forth into the fields before sunrise, to wait the " resurec

tion" of the day's-eye.

"And doune on knees anon right I me sette,
And as I could, this freshe floure I grette,
Kneeling alway, till it unclosed was,
Upon the smale, softe, swete gras,

That was with floures swete embrouded all,
Of soch swetenesse, and soch odour all,
That for to speake of gomme, herbe or tree,
Comparison may not ymaked be,

For it surmounteth plainly all odoures,
And of the riche beaute of the floures:

And leaning on my elbow and my side
The longe day I shope me to abide,
For nothing els, and I shall not lie,
But for to looke upon the daisie,
That well by reason men it calle may,
The daisie, or else the iye of the day,
The Emprise, and floure of floures all,
I pray to God that faire mote she fall,
And all that loven floures for her sake:

Whan that the Sunne out of the south gan west,
And that this floure gan close, and gan to rest;
For darknes of the night, the which she dred,
Home to mine house full swiftly I me sped,
To

gone to rest, and earely for to rise,

To seene this floure to sprede, as I devise."

The daisy has never received homage like Chaucer's; nor has any flower (Shakspeare's Love-in-idleness alone excepted) become so entirely associated with a poet's fame. How simply, and how lovingly he paints his affection for this darling of the year! Coleridge justly remarked, "how well we seem to know Chaucer;" and in these lovely descriptions of his early and late watchings of his favourite flower, how completely we seem

to behold him, "kneeling alway, till it unclosed was ;" and at sunset, when its leaves were again folded, we see him hastening home, that he may rise early and watch it again expand. What a beautiful portrait of a gentle, happy, and truly poetic mind may be found in Chaucer's passages descriptive of his own habits and fancies, and yet, comparatively, by how small a portion of readers are his works known, and how little appreciated, chiefly for want of the attention at first required to understand the varying accents and form the correct rhythm in reading them. His poems are so replete with beauties, and so thoroughly English in spirit, that they must, ere long, occupy that place among familiar favourites which they have so long in vain deserved.

Shakspeare very gracefully introduces the daisy in the description of Lucrece sleeping.

Without the bed her other fair hand was,
On the green coverlet; whose perfect white
Showed like an April daisy on the grass.
Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheathed their light,
And, canopied in darkness, sweetly lay,

Till they might open to adorn the day.

To our flower-loving Herrick I must be indebted for the last specimen of daisy eulogy which I shall quote here; it is a sweet melodious little fancy, and, as is usual in such compositions of his day, conveys a very elegant compliment to his

mistress.

TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON.

Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night

Ha's not as yet begunne

To make a seizure on the light,

Or to seale up the sunne.

No marigolds yet closed are,

No shadowes greate appeare;

Nor doth the early shepheard's starre

Shine like a spangle here.

Stay but till my Julia close

Her life-begetting eye;

And let the whole world then dispose

It selfe to live or dye.

Among the poetic groups of spring flowers, culled from the rich parterre of Britain's noble and immortal Bards, I cannot omit the following exquisite description of the vernal season, by Gawdain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld. The epithets in it are often peculiarly happy; but to those of my readers who think Chaucer's language obscure, these truly beautiful lines will seem utterly unintelligible, even with the glossary appended.

And blissful blossoms in the bloomed sward

Submit their heads in the young sun's safe-guard :
Ivy-leaves rank o'erspread the Barmekyna wall;
The bloomed hawthorn clad his pykis all
Forth of fresh burgeons; the wine-grapis ying
Endlong the twistis did on trestles hing.

Barmekyn-old mound, barbican.

b Pykis-thorns.

e Burgeons-buds.

The locked buttons on the gemmed trees
O'erspread and leaves of nature's tapestries
Soft grassy verdure, after balmy showers,
On curland stalkis, similand to their flowers.
Behold and them so many divers hue,

Some pers, some pale, some burnet, and some blue,

Some grey, some gules, some purpure, some sanguene,
Blanchets or brown, fauch-yellow" many ane.

Some heavenly coloured, in celestial gré',

k

Some watry-hued, as the haw-waly sea;

And some depaint in freckles red and white,
Some bright as gold, with aureate leavis lite':
The daisie did unbraid her crownal smale,

And every flower un-lapped in the dale.

The flower-de-luce forth spread his heavenly hue,
Flower-damas, and columbo black and blue.
Sere downis smale on dandelion sprung,

Р

The young green bloomed strawberry-leaves among :
Gimp gilliflowers their own leaves un-shet";
Fresh primrose, and the purpure violet.
The rose-knobbis tetand° forth their head,
Gan chip, and kyth their vernal lippis red
Crisp scarlet leaves sheddand, baith at anes,
Cast fragrant smell amid from golden grains.
Heavenly lilies, with lockerand toppis white
Opened, and shew their crestis redemite'.

;

The expression "lockerand toppis," in speaking of the lilies, is very quaintly appropriate, as so many of that class of flowers have the petals, when fully expanded, turning back in a perfect curl, like the red tiger lily.

F