Laterano. St. Augustin, however, considered the Peacock to be a symbol of the resurrection of the body, because its flesh was believed to be incorruptible. But the peacock never takes the place of the phoenix in the apsidial mosaics; nor does the phoenix ever take the place of the peacock on Christian sepulchral urns and other monuments.

Dr. Barlow, from whose communication to the Builder these observations are quoted, states it to be alleged that when the palm-tree has decayed, the Arabs cut it down to the roots, and burn it on the spot; and the ashes being covered with a layer of earth, a new shoot springs up, which in the course of a few years becomes a strong tree. It would seem that we have here the origin of the fabled phoenix rising renewed from the flames that consumed it, as the bird and the tree bear the same name.

This is probably the reason why, in Christian symbolism, the phoenix with a glory of rays was employed to signify the glorified body in the resurrection.

Sir Thomas Browne, among his erudite guesses, describes the Phoenix as a bird of Paradise," and alike the emblem of the Resurrection and the Sun;" again, "that it was a palm-tree, and that it was only a mistake upon the homonymy of the Greek word phoenix, which signifies a palm-tree.”—See Timbs's Popular Errors Explained, pp. 117-8.

The Church of St. Giles' in the Fields, London, has a Resurrection Gate," with an elaborate bas-relief of the Day of Judgment. This curious work of art is stated to have been taken from the lich-gate of the former church.

FLOWERS ON GRAVES.

This rite scarcely belongs to the "Mysteries" of Death; its simplicity being an instinct of every stage of man's life—the very child seeking to

Pluck the frail flowers that gaily bloom,

And cast as they fade away,

In garlands on its mother's tomb.

Or in the more touching couplet describing some children at play among the tombs

Alas! unconscious of the kindred earth,

That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth.

A drooping flower is an emblem of early death, a thought which we remember to have seen amplified in some lines upon two young children of the Rev. Joseph Hamilton, D.D., interred at. Hemel Hempstead, in Hertfordshire :

:

As fades the flower in early spring,
When tempests sweep the land,

Flowers on Graves.

So droops the tender infant's form
When seized by death's cold hand.
Farewell, sweet babes, the loss is ours,
For you are gone to rest;

The Shepherd has but call'd his lambs,
To fold them to his breast.

171

One who felt acutely the sorrows as well as enjoyed the ecstasies of life, has sung:

Flowers are the bright remembrancers of youth:

They waft back with their bland and odorous breath
The joyous hours that only young life knows,

Ere we have learn'd that this fair earth hides graves.
They bring the cheek that's mouldering in the dust
Again before us, ting'd with health's own rose,
They bring the voices we shall hear no more,
Whose tones were sweetest music to our ears:
They bring the hopes that faded one by one,

"Till nought was left to light our path but faith,

That we too, like the flowers, should spring to life,

But not like them again e'er fade or die.-Lady Blessington.

Of the Pagan custom of strewing graves with flowers, we find this beautiful record in Virgil; where Anchises, grieving for Marcellus, makes him say:

Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,

Mix'd with the purple roses of the spring,
Let me with fun'ral flowers his body strew,
This gift, which parents to their children owe,
This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow.

The rose has been for ages the favourite flower for funereal purposes. Among the Greeks, the relatives of the deceased wore garlands of roses during the days of mourning, as emblematical of the shortness of life, which passes as quickly away as would the beauty of those roses which form the mourner's crown. The tombs of the dead were decorated with roses, under the idea that they possessed the power of protecting the remains of the deceased, and were peculiarly acceptable as an offering to their The Greeks also used the amaranthus, which is commonly regarded as the flower now known by the name of “everlasting." Parsley and myrtle were likewise funereal plants. The Romans were so fond of the rose, that we find inscriptions which refer to legacies left in their wills for the express purpose of providing roses, with which their tombs were annually to be decorated. This custom has descended to our times.

manes.

Lord Byron writes from Bologna, June 7, 1819: “Here, as in Greece, they strew flowers on the tombs: I saw a quantity of rose-leaves and entire roses scattered over the graves at Ferrara. It has the most pleasing effect you can imagine."

The Romans are considered to have brought this custom intc England: such is the opinion of the Rev. Owen Manning, the

Flowers on Graves.

Virgins promis'd when I died,
That they would each primrose-tide,
Duly morn and evening come,
And with flowers dress my tomb;
Having promis'd, pay your debts,
Maids, and here strew violets.

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In Wales, where the custom is observed to this day, the white rose is always planted on the grave of an unmarried female; the red rose is appropriated to any one distinguished for benevolence of character. Here, too, the bed, the coffin, and the grave are also strewed with flowers. We remember the rite at Hemel Hempstead, in 1809, where a young boy dying at school, the corpse and the open coffin, as well as the room in which it was placed, were strewed with flowers; and the schoolfellows of the deceased, 100 in number, were admitted to view the mournful

scene.

The decoration of the corpse is mentioned by many poets. Shakspeare, in Romeo and Juliet, makes Friar Lawrence say:

Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary

On this fair corse.

Sir Thomas Overbury concludes his character of "the fair and the happy Milkmaid," with: "Thus lived she, and all her care is that she may die in the spring-time, to have store of flowers stuck upon her winding-sheet."

The Vicar of Stratford-upon-Avon, in his Diary, (1648—1679,) says: "Wee poor men steal into our graves with no greater noise than can bee made by a sprigg of rosemary, or a black ribband." Gay, in his Shepherd's Week-the Dirge Pastoral, &c. has this picture of the funeral of a village maiden:

To show their love, the neighbours far and near,
Followed with wistful look the damsel's bier.
Sprigg'd rosemary the lads and lasses bore,
While dismally the Parson walked before.
Upon her grave the rosemary they threw,
The daisy, butter-flower, and endive blue.
After the good man warn'd us from his text,
That none could tell whose turn would be the next;
He said, that Heaven would take her soul, no doubt,
And spoke the hour-glass in her praise-quite out.
To her sweet memory flowery garlands strung,
O'er her now empty seat aloft were hung.
With wicker rods we fenc'd her tomb around,
To warn from man and beast the hallow'd ground;
Lest her new grave the Parson's cattle raze,

For both his horse and cow the churchyard graze.

In a previous passage from the same poem we find this account of the superstitions of the death-bed, about a century and a half since:

When Blouzelind expired, the wether's bell
Before the drooping flock toll'd forth her knell ;
The solemn death-watch click'd the hour she dy'd,
And shrilling crickets in the chimney cry'd;
The boding raven on her cottage sate,

And with hoarse croaking warn'd her of her fate;
The lambkin, which her wonted tendance bred,
Dropped on the plains that fatal instant dead;
Swarm'd on a rotten stick the bees I spy'd,
Which erst I saw when goody Dobson dy'd.

Jeremy Taylor says: "Though I should like a dry death, yet I should not like a dry funeral. Some flowers strewed upon my grave would do well and comely; and a soft shower to turn these flowers into a springing memory, or a fair rehearsal." The pious John Evelyn also says: We adorn their graves with flowers and redolent plants, just emblems of the life of man, which has been compared in Holy Scripture, to those fading beauties, whose roots being buried in dishonour, rise again in glory."

But, the Garden, with its flowers and evergreens, is altogether hallowed ground. "It speaks of a Christian people employed in an occupation, which, above all others, is the parable that conveys the deepest truths to them-which daily reads them silent lessons, if their hearts would hear, of the vanity of earthly pomp, of the beauty of heavenly simplicity, and purity, and lowliness of mind, of contentment and unquestioning faith-which sets before them, in the thorns and thistles, a remembrance of their fallen state-in the cedar, and the olive, and the palm-tree, the promise of a better country-which hourly recalls to their mind the Agony and the Burial of Him who made a garden the scene of both, and who bade us mark and consider such things, how they bud, and how they grow,' giving us in the vine a type of His Church, and in the fig-tree of His Coming." (Quarterly Review.) In Roman Catholic burial-grounds, the planting and decorating of graves has been a rite from time immemorial; and in the Protestant public cemeteries of England, the same observance is now general; although it was rarely seen in our churchyards.

The yew-tree is indigenous to this country; and when its longevity, its durability, and the perpetual verdure it presents, are taken into consideration, it is not surprising that the yew should have been recognised as an emblem of the immortality of the soul, and employed about our churchyards to deck the graves of the deceased.