and the sparkling rivulet are before us; the sound of the shepherd's pipe, the soft bleating of the sheep, and the drowsy hum of the wild-bees meet our ears, while the perfume of the thyme and other odoriferous plants and flowers steal over the senses with a soothing influence, like slumber; we dream, yet we are awake; we behold realities as though they were but phantomscreatures of imagination. All is shadowy, indistinct, yet full of beauty and intelligence, Lo, you now, you happy-looking group of men and women, laden with bright-hued blossoms, and verdant boughs, piping and singing so merrily as they cross the plain. Let us question him who sits watching his sheep by the stream, that glides so glassily along the foot of the green hill,

"From whence come all these shepherd swains

And lovely nymphs attired in green?"

Hark, he answers,―

"From gathering garlands on the plains

To crown our fair, the shepherds' queen."

Nearer they come, yet nearer, and now the words of their song can be distinguished :

"Bring hither the pinke and purple columbine,
With gillyflowers;

Bring sweet carnations, and sops in wine,
Worn of paramours.

Strew me the ground with daff-a-down-dillies,
And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lilies.
The pretty paunce,

And the chevisaunce,

Shall match with the flower-de-luce."

M. DRAYTON.

Let us follow the singers through yon grove of myrtles into the open space beyond, where upon a grassy hillock, a throne is erected, of turf, overarched with boughs reft from the neighbouring trees, and literally covered with wreaths and clusters of the fairest flowers; and lo, the queen!—

"See where she sits upon the grassie greene,
A seemly sight!

Yclad in scarlet, like a mayden queene,
And ermines white.

Upon her head a crimson coronet,
With daffodils and damask roses set:

Bay-leaves betweene,

And primroses greene

Embellish the sweete violet."-SPENCER.

We have purposely avoided here speaking of May-day festivities, because another opportunity will occur of doing so, in "the Poetry of the Months." The chapter which follows will fully explain why no allusion is here made to the custom of decorating corpses and places of sepulture with flowers. We take leave of this portion of our subject with the words of the sweetest of Spanish poets:

"This lucid fount whose murmurs fill the mind,
The verdant forests waving with the wind;
The odours wafted from the mead, the flowers
In which the wild bee sits and sings for hours;
These might the moodiest misanthrope employ,
Make sound the sick, and turn distress to joy."

GRACILASSO DE LA VEGA.

From the earliest times of Christianity a day was set apart to commemorate our Lord's ascension into Heaven. On this day, parish boundaries are frequently perambulated, accompanied by well-known customs. At Penkridge, in Staffordshire, as well as at Wolverhampton, long since the Reformation, during the time of processioning, the inhabitants used to adorn their wells with boughs and flowers; and this elegant custom is still practised annually at Tissington, in Derbyshire, where it is denominated "well-flowering." A modern divine has given an interesting account of this pleasing ceremony, for which, see TIME'S TELESCOPE, for 1827, and a MR. T. L. MERRITT, has written a poem on the subject, from which we extract the following:

VILLAGER'S SONG.

Bring flowers! bring flowers! to the crystal well
That springs 'neath the willows in yonder dell;
Bring the meadow-sweet fair,

And the vale-lily rare;

Blend the cowslip's hue

With the violet blue;
And the primrose bring,
Sweet blossom of Spring,
With a garland gay

Of beautiful May!

And we'll scatter them over the charmed well,
And learn our fate from its mystic spell :-

Bring flowers! bring flowers!

To the well, to the well-away! away!
With a gladsome heart, and a roundelay!
For the lark is a-wing,
And the nightingales sing,
And each balmy flower
Wakes to welcome the hour;
Not a cloud sails by

To darken the sky,

And the breeze is at rest

On the bluebell's breast:

All nature rejoices, and so will we,

With a lightsome heart right merrily :

Bring flowers! bring flowers!

And she whose flower most tranquilly
Glides down the stream, our Queen shall be ;
In a crown we'll wreathe

Wild flowers that breathe;
With the sweet eglantine
The forget-me-not twine,
And the purple heart's-ease,-
'Tis the emblem of peace;
And the pimpernel shy

With its storm-seeing eye:

And the maiden by whom this wreathe shall be worn, Shall wear it again on her bridal morn:—

Wreathe flowers! wreathe flowers!

In the early ages of Christianity, the common people were accustomed to honour wells and fountains with the titles of saints and martyrs; as St. John's, St. Winifred's, and St. Agnes' well. Though this was forbidden by the canons of St. Anselm,

many pilgrimages continued to be made to them, and the custom was long retained of throwing nosegays into fountains and chaplets into wells. From this practice originated the ceremony of sprinkling rivers with flowers, which, in reference to the Severn, is alluded to by both MILTON and DRYDEN, and also thus ele gantly described in "The Fleece:"

"With light fantastic toe the nymphs
Thither assembled, thither every swain;

And o'er the dimpled stream a thousand flowers,
Pale lilies, roses, violets, and pinks,

Mix'd with the greens of burnet, mint, and thyme
And trefoil, sprinkled with their sportive arms.
Such custom holds along the irriguous vales,
From Wreken's brow to rocky Dolvoryn,
Sabrina's early haunt."

HYMN OF THE TURKISH CHILDREN.

BY MISS PARDOE.

A recent traveller in Turkey describes an interesting ceremony, witnessed by her, performed at a time of excessive drought. "At dusk, the village children, walking two and two, and each carrying a bunch of wild flowers, drew near the cistern in their turn, and sang to one of the thrilling melodies of the country, a hymn of supplication."

Allah! Father! hear us;

Our souls are faint and weak:
A cloud is on our mother's brow,
A tear upon her cheek: