Many of the legends of the plant-world have been incidentally alluded to in the preceding pages.  Whether we review their mythological history as embodied in the traditionary stories of primitive times, or turn to the existing legends of our own and other countries in modern times, it is clear that the imagination has at all times bestowed some of its richest and most beautiful fancies on trees and flowers.  Even, too, the rude and ignorant savage has clothed with graceful conceptions many of the plants which, either for their grandeur or utility, have attracted his notice.  The old idea, again, of metamorphosis, by which persons under certain peculiar cases were changed into plants, finds a place in many of the modern plant-legends.  Thus there is the well-known story of the wayside plantain, commonly termed “way-bread,” which, on account of its so persistently haunting the track of man, has given rise to the German story that it was formerly a maiden who, whilst watching by the wayside for her lover, was transformed into this plant.  But once in seven years it becomes a bird, either the cuckoo, or the cuckoo’s servant, the “dinnick,” as it is popularly called in Devonshire, the German “wiedhopf” which is said to follow its master everywhere.

This story of the plantain is almost identical with one told in Germany of the endive or succory.  A patient girl, after waiting day by day for her betrothed for many a month, at last, worn out with watching, sank exhausted by the wayside and expired.  But before many days had passed, a little flower with star-like blossoms sprang up on the spot where the broken-hearted maiden had breathed her final sigh, which was henceforth known as the “Wegewarte,” the watcher of the road.  Mr. Folkard quotes an ancient ballad of Austrian Silesia which recounts how a young girl mourned for seven years the loss of her lover, who had fallen in war.  But when her friends tried to console her, and to procure for her another lover, she replied, “I shall cease to weep only when I become a wild-flower by the wayside.”  By the North American Indians, the plantain or “way-bread” is “the white man’s foot,” to which Longfellow, in speaking of the English settlers, alludes in his “Hiawatha":—­

  “Wheresoe’er they move, before them
  Swarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo,
  Swarms the bee, the honey-maker;
  Wheresoe’er they tread, beneath them
  Springs a flower unknown among us,
  Springs the white man’s foot in blossom.”

Between certain birds and plants there exists many curious traditions, as in the case of the nightingale and the rose.  According to a piece of Persian folklore, whenever the rose is plucked, the nightingale utters a plaintive cry, because it cannot endure to see the object of its love injured.  In a legend told by the Persian poet Attar, we are told how all the birds appeared before Solomon, and complained that they were unable to sleep from the nightly wailings of the nightingale.  The bird, when questioned as to the truth of this statement, replied that his love for the rose was the cause of his grief.  Hence this supposed love of the nightingale for the rose has been frequently the subject of poetical allusion.  Lord Byron speaks of it in the “Giaour":—­