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LINES

On the origin of the application of the name of the “Fleur de Souvenance,” (modern “Forget-me-not,”) to the Myosotis Scorpiodis.

(For the Mirror.)

  A gallant knight and a lady bright
    Walk’d by a crystal lake;
  The twin’d oaks made a grateful shade
    Above the fangled brake,
  While the trembling leaves of aspen trees
    A murmuring music make.

  And as they spoke, round them echoes woke
    To tales of love and glory;
  The knight was brave, though of love the slave,
    And the dame lov’d gallant story—­
  Proudly he told deeds gentle and bold,
    Of warriors dead or hoary.

  Like babe at rest on its mother’s breast,
    On that an island lay—­
  So still and fair reigned Nature there—­
    So bright the glist’ring spray,
  You might have thought the scene had been wrought
    By spell of faun or fay.

  On the island’s edge, midst tangled sedge,
    Lay a wreath of wild flow’rs blue—­
  The broad flag-leaf was their sweet relief,
    When the heat too fervid grew;
  And the willow’s shade a shelter made,
    When stormy tempests blew.

  And as they stood, the faithful flood
    Gave back ev’ry line and trace
  Of earth below and heaven above,
    And their own forms gallant grace—­
  For forms more fair than that lovely pair
    Ne’er shone on its liquid face.

  “I would a flower from that bright bower
    Some nymph would waft to me—­
  For in my eyes a dearer prize
    Than glitt’ring gem ’twould be—­
  For its changeless blue seems emblem true
    Of love’s own constancy.”

  The maiden spake, and no more the lake
    In slumb’ring stillness lay,
  For from the side of his destin’d bride
    The knight has pass’d away;
  In vain the maid’s soft words essay’d
    His rash pursuit to stay.

  He has reach’d the tower, and pluck’d the flower. 
    And turn’d from the verdant spot. 
  Ah, hapless knight! some Naiad bright
    Woo’d thee to her coral grot;
  And forbids that more to touch that shore
    Shall ever be thy lot.

  Vainly he tried to gain the side,
    Where knelt his lady-love;
  Flagg’d every limb, his eyes grew dim,
    But still the spirit strove. 
  One effort more—­he flings to shore
    The flow’r so dear to prove. 
  ’Tis past! ’tis past! that look his last,
    That fond sad glance of love
  The bubbling wave his farewell gave
    In the moan, “Forget me not.”

D.A.H

The above incident occurred in the time of Edward IV.

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HAVER BREAD.