solar beams, and invites it to approach and receive the greetings of the elementa beings:

Born in yon blaze of orient sky,

Sweet May! thy radiant form unfold; Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye,

And wave thy shadowy locks of gold.

For thee the fragrant zephyrs blow,

For thee descends the sunny shower; The rills in softer murmurs flow,

And brighter blossoms gem the bower.

Light Graces dress'd in flowery wreaths,
And tiptoe Joys their hands combine;
And Love his sweet contagion breathes,
And laughing dances round thy shrine.

Warm with new life, the glittering throng
On quivering fin and rustling wing
Delighted join their votive songs,

And hail thee, goddess of the spring.

One of Milton's richest fancies is of this month; he says, that Adam, discoursing with Eve

Smil'd with superior love; as Jupiter
On Juno smiles, when he impregns the
clouds

That shed May-flowers.

Throughout the wide range of poetic excellence, there is no piece of higher loveliness than his often quoted, yet never tiring

Song on May Morning.

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May! that dost inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire;
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
Hill and dale both boast thy blessing!
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

With exquisite feeling and exuberant grace he derives Mirth from

The frolic wind that breathes the spring
Zephyr, with Aurora playing
As he met her once a Maying;
and, with beautiful propriety, as regards
the season, he makes the scenery

-beds of violets blue,
And fresh blown roses wash'd in dew.
The first of his "sonnets" is to the night-

66

ingale warbling on a bloomy spray" at
eve, while, as he figures,
"The jolly hours lead on propitious May."

In "a Conversational Poem written in
April," by Mr. Coleridge, there is a de-
scription of the nightingale's song, so
splendid that it may take the place of
extracts from other poets who have cele-
brated the charms of the coming month,
wherein this bird's high melody prevails
with increasing power :-
All is still,

A balmy night! and tho' the stars be dim,
Yet let us think upon the vernal showers
That gladden the green earth, and we shall find
A pleasure in the dimuess of the stars.
And hark? the nightingale begins its song.
He crowds, and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes,
As he were fearful, that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter torth
His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music!

-I know a grove
Of large extent, hard by a castle huge
Which the great lord inhabits not: and so
This grove is wild with tangling underwood,
And the trim walks are broken up, and raas

Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths.
But never elsewhere in one place I knew
So many nightingales: and far and near
In wood and thicket over the wide grove
They answer and provoke each other's songs-
With skirmish and capricious passagings,
And murmurs musical and swift jug jug,
And one low piping sound more sweet than all-
Stirring the air with such a harmony,

That should you close your eyes, you might almost
Forget it was not day! On moonlight bushes,

Whose dewy leafits are but half disclos'd,

You may perchance behold them on the twigs,

Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full
Glist'ning, while many a glow-worm in the shade
Lights up her love-torch.-

-Oft, a moment's space,
What time the moon was lost behind a cloud.
Hath heard a pause of silence: till the moon
Emerging, hath awaken'd earth and sky
With one sensation, and those wakeful birds
Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy,
As if one quick and sudden gale had swept
An hundred airy harps! And I have watch'd
Many a nightingale perch'd giddily

On blos'my twig, still swinging from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song,
Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head.

May 1.

St. Philip, and St. James the less. St.
Asaph, Bp. of Llan-Elway, A. D. 590.
St. Marcon, or Marculfus, a. D. 558. St.
Sigismund, king of Burgundy, 6th Cent

St. Philip and St. James.
Philip is supposed to have been the
first of Christ's apostles, and to have died
at Hierapolis, in Phrygia. James, also
surnamed the Just, whose name is borne
by the epistle in the New Testament, and
who was in great repute among the Jews,
was martyred in a tumult in the temple,
about the year 62.* St. Philip and St.
James are in the church of England

Calendar.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Tulip. Tulipa Gesneri.
Dedicated to St. Philip.

Red Campion. Lychnis dioica rubra. Red Bachelor's Buttons. Lychnis dioica plena.

Dedicated to St. James.

Mr. Audley, from Lardner.

May-Day.

Hail! sacred thou to sacred joy,

To mirth and wine, sweet first of May!
To sports, which no grave cares alloy,
The sprightly dance, the festive play!

Hail! thou, of ever-circling time
That gracest still the ceaseless flow !
Bright blossom of the season's prime,
Aye, hastening on to winter's snow!

When first young Spring his angel face
On earth unveiled, and years of gold,
Gilt with
pure ray man's guileless race,
By law's stern terrors uncontrolled.
Such was the soft and genial breeze

Mild Zephyr breathed on all around
With grateful glee, to airs like these
Yielded its wealth th' unlaboured gro

So fresh, so fragrant is the gale,

Which o'er the islands of the blest

Sweeps; where nor aches the limbs assail,
Nor age's peevish pains infest.

Where thy hushed groves, Elysium, sleep,
Such winds with whispered murmurs blow
So, where dull Lethe's waters creep,

They heave, scarce heave the cypress-bough

VOL. I.

what; and becomes a grave authority to the grave antiquary. The sweetest of all British bards that sing of our customs. beautifully illustrates the May-day of England :

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morne
Upon her wings presents the God unshorne.
See how Aurora throwes her faire
Fresh-quilted colours through the aire;
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and sce
The dew bespangling herbe and tree.

Each flower has wept, and bow'd toward the east,
Above an houre since, yet you not drest,

Nay! not so much as out of bed;

When all the birds have matteyns seyd,
And sung their thankfull hymnes; 'tis sin,
Nay, profanation to keep in,

When as a thousand virgins on this day,
Spring sooner ther the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise, and put on your foliage, and be seene

To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and greece,
And sweet as Flora. Take no care

For jewels for your gowne or haire;
Feare not, the leaves will strew
Gemms in abundance upon you;

Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept.
Come, and receive then while the light
Hangs on the dew-locls of the night:
And Titan on the eastern hill

Retires himselfe, or else stands still

Till you come forth. Wash, dresse, be brief in praying:
Few beads are best, when once we goe a Maying.

Come, my Corinna, come; and, comming, marke
How each field turns a street, each street a parke

Made green, and trimm'd with trees; see how
Devotion gives each house a bough,

Or branch; each porch, each doore, ere this.
An arke, a tabernacle is,

Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove;
As if here were those cooler shades of love
Can such delights be in the street,
And open fields, and we not see't?
Come, we'll abroad, and let's obay
The proclamation made for May:

And sin no more, as we have done, by staying
But, my Corinna, come, let's goe a Maying.

There's not a budding boy or girle, this day,
But is got up, and gone to bring in May.
A deale of youth, ere this, is come
Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have dispatcht their cakes and creame
Before that we have left to dreame;

And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth,
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
Many a green gown has been given ;
Many a kisse, both odde and even;
Many a glance, too, has been sent
From out the eye, love's firinament ;

REESE

LIBRARY

OF THE

UNIVERSITY

273

T

A gatherer of notices respecting our pastimes says, "The after-part of Mayday is chiefly spent in dancing round a tall Poll, which is called a May Poll; which being placed in a convenient part of the village, stands there, as it were consecrated to the Goddess of Flowers, without the least violation offer'd to it, in the whole circle of the year." ."* One who was an implacable enemy to popular sports relates the fetching in of "the May" from the woods. "But," says he, "their cheefest jewell they bring from thence is their Maie poole, whiche they bring home with greate veneration, as thus. They have twentie or fourtie yoke of oxen, every oxe havyng a sweete nosegaie of flowers tyed on the tippe of his hornes, and these oxen drawe home this Maie poole, which is covered all over with flowers and hearbes, bounde rounde aboute with stringes, from the top to the bottome, and sometyme painted with variable colours, with two or three hun

Herrick.

dred men, women, aaa children follow-
yng it, with greate devotion. And thus
beyng reared up, with handkerchiefes and
flagges streamyng on the toppe, they
strawe the grounde aboute, binde greene
boughes about it, sett up Sommer haules,
Bowers, and Arbours hard by it. And
then fall they to banquet and feast, to
leape and daunce aboute it, as the Hea-
then people did at the dedication of their
Idolles, whereof this is a perfect patterne
or rather the thyng itself."*

The May-pole is up,
Now give me the cup;
I'll drink to the garlands around it,
But first unto those

Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
Herrick.

Another poet, and therefore no opponent to homely mirth on this festal day, so describes part of its merriment as to make a beautiful picture :

I have seen the Lady of the May
Set in an arbour (on a holy-day)
Built by the May-pole, where the jucund swaines
Dance with the maidens to the bag-pipes straines,
When envious night commands them to be gone,
Call for the merry youngsters one by one,
And, for their well performance, soon disposes,
To this a garland interwove with roses,

To that a carved hooke, or well-wrought scrip;
Gracing another with her cherry lip;
To one her garter; to another, then,
A handkerchiefe, cast o'er and o'er again ;
And none returneth emptie that hath spent
His paines to fill their rural merriment.

A poet, who has not versified, (Mr.
Washington Irving,) says, "I shall never

Browne s Pastorals

forget the delight I felt on first seeing a May-pole. It was on the banks of the

• Stubbes