University of Virginia Library

This, and the six following poems, are from “Floral Offerings,” of which a few copies only were printed, in honour of the Royal Horticultural Society of Cornwall; whose first meeting was held at Truro, on the 29th of June, 1832.

A deceased sister and myself had pleasure in a little garden which from long desertion was overgrown with briars and brambles, and ground-ivy. But our hedgerow nook retained its peculiar feature, after the lapse of more than sixty years. The snowdrop was here our favourite flower. That the trace of a snowdrop, however, or of any other flower was here discoverable, I could not conceive. Yet here I found a tuft of snowdrops in January 1829.

I had considered the above as merely an effusion of fancy and feeling;—not at all aware, that snowdrops could have existed so long in the ground—upwards of sixty years, till in the Journal of a Naturalist I read the following: “The snowdrop remains the only memorial of man and his labours, a melancholy flower; reminding us of some deserted dwelling, a family gone, a hearth that smokes no more!”

Flumina amem sylvasque. —Geor. II. v. 486.

See “Lady of the Lake,” C. I. stan. xxvi.

The following flowers have been observed to emit flashes, more or less vivid, in this order:

And the Sunflower (Helianthus annuus) emits phosphoric light.

The ceremony of blessing the appletrees, in Devon and Cornwall, is well known.

“They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.” —Gray's Elegy.

“In some quiet country parsonage (said the divine Hooker) may I see God's blessings spring out of my mother earth, and eat my own bread in peace and privacy.” —See a Letter of Hooker to Archbishop Whitgift.

The Saxon thane seems to answer to our wealthier yeoman.

Sua si bona norint, &c. —Geor. II.

Geor. II.

Geor. lib. iv. v. 131.

Primus carpere poma. Geor. v. 134.

Distulit ulmos, &c. v. 144.

Spinos jam pruna ferentes. v. 145.

Ministrantem platanum potantibus umbras. v. 146.

Shakspeare.

Mrs. Butler (Fanny Kemble), who in her late publication has thrown more light on America than any former traveller, promised Dr. ------ never “to walz again, except with a woman or her brother.” The Walz, under all its modifications, is no other than the Phallic Dance; which a truly modest woman would blush even to name. It was the very dance even of the courtezans of Corinth—the strumpets of Babylon—the harlots of Jerusalem. —[see Ezekiel.] I have heard of a lady, who flung down Fanny Kemble's book in disdain, because poor Fanny had “wished somebody at the devil.” Qu? Has this lady objected to the walz?

A friend, objecting to the second line, when I presented him with these versions:—

He preferred this to the other two.

Yet “by brambles screened,” &c. &c. is the exact description of a little stream which used to glitter to the morning sun, but of which, overgrown as it now is by brambles, furze and fern, not a glimpse is to be seen.

See Sargent's “Mine,” a poem.

The following Sonnet was about the same time addressed to Cowper; who cordially united with Darwin and Hayley in expressing sentiments complimentary to “the Muse of Devon,” and honoured me with a correspondence highly flattering.

A hollow oak, in which the wood pigeons had a nest every year.

Not many generations have passed away, since the Cornish country squires have had no objection to share in the rich wrecks that blessed their lucky shores.

What is here commemorated, was a real incident. Squire Ned was a progenitor of one of the most ancient families in Cornwall. In his days a country squire had just “larning” enough to know, that “phoca was Latin” for a seal; whilst he used the provincialisms of the lowest farmers—whit for white— “yaffer” for heifer.

The youngest sister of the three Hesperides.

Nullius addictus, &c.

This is literally a fact. A gentleman said of another—“He is a radical, and deserves to be kicked,” in the presence of his little boy, not quite three years old. Several months after, the radical called at the gentleman's house, when the child immediately as he entered the parlour, ran to him and kicked him. “How is this?” cried the father—“What's the matter?” “Why you said you know—he's a radical, and must be kicked.” The gentleman did not recollect that he ever said it. But this clever little fellow, I dare say, was probably right.

This was an impromptu on a worthy Dean, who won a fair lady by his graceful manœuvres in taking snuff.

Pulveris exigui jactu.

Divinæ particulam auræ

The great dealer in snuff.

Cupid's lucky sneeze inspir'd thy love— Theocritus, Idyll 18th.

We all recollect the anecdote of Busby, at Westminster, asserting the sovereign, even in the Royal presence.

A rial, an old gold coin, its value half a sovereign; which this moment reminds me of parson Patten, the facetious curate of Whitstable; to whom, in extreme distress, Archbishop Secker sent, I think, 20 angels. “Tell the Primate (said he) that now I own him to be a man of God—for I have seen his angels.” The angel was likewise a gold coin worth ten shillings or half a sovereign.

Lan-deu-wednac—the black and white church; consisting of whitish granite and dark-coloured serpentine alternately disposed —a sort of chequerwork. It is surprising that our etymologists should have been all puzzled about the meaning of the word— so obvious on a view of the building. This, however, was the case. Old Sandys of the Lizard was “weary with conjectures.”

We all recollect the anecdote of Busby, at Westminster, asserting the sovereign, even in the Royal presence.

A valley where children were sacrificed to Moloch.

Heyw. Hierarchie, B. IV. p. 208.

See 2 Kings, ii. 23.

“Honestum,” as applied to Bacchus. And of our Bacchanals here we may well say:

On the board over the Beershop, is the Beer, or are the Drinkers of beer, directed by the Act of Parliament “to be drunk on the premises?” —Qu.?

The above sonnet was so printed. See the ninth line, in which “every eye” occurred instead of the preceding line. It is literally a fact, that the printer's devil brought me a proof, with this dislocation, but disregarded my correction.

χαλκεον ποιησας,&c. See Epigr. on Pisander. Warton's Theocrit. I, 133.

χαλκεον νιν. See Epigr. on Epicharmus. Warton's Theocrit. I. 132.

A cow near Truro, that produced three pounds of butter every day for some months, the farmers said, at a late Agricultural Meeting, was “worthy of a statue!”

See, for the story of Phalaris, Pliny, Ovid, &c.

So said a man of rank, but a Rad. ------ Borlase is very fanciful in his description of Karnbre. I have seen so many rock basins in Devon and Cornwall, evidently not artificial—in similar situations with those on Karnbre—that I cannot but protest against all that Borlase has conjectured on the subject. That sublime moonlight picture of Stonehenge, which I had in memory, but could no where find—and in search of which I have repeatedly sent my literary correspondents, I danced almost for joy on discovering, as quoted by Borlase from “West's Inst. of the Garter”—

West's Poem perhaps may be found in Dodsley's Collection of Poems, which I have not seen for many years.

My two late housedogs lie buried near the spot where my son planted a slip or two which he had plucked from Buonaparte's willow at St. Helena.

Whosoever maketh a lie.

This resembles one of the epitaphs in Theocritus—“the sweet Sicilian Bard”—“done into English” by me 55 years ago. My translation was asleep, I believe. But a kind Critic in Fraser's admirable Magazine has just awakened it from its slumbers. He thought, too, I was lost in the delirium of old age stealing from life.—Alas! it is far otherwise!

This was one of the corporation squibs played off from time to time during the tortures of disfranchisement.

In proof of the bodily hugeness of the Emperor Maximius the Elder, his thumb is recorded to have been so large, as to bear upon it his Queen's right hand bracelet for a ring. [Hist. Aug. Scriptores, 606. Capitolinus.]

We know an Alderman's thumb-ring to have been an object familiar to the eyes of Shakspeare. [Arch. III. 390, Sir Jos. Ayloffe, and Shakspeare's Part I. of Henry IV. Act II. Scene IV.] “When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an Eagle's talon in the waist: I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring.”

An Alderman's thumb-ring is mentioned by Brome, in the Antipodes, 1640; again in the Northern Cap, 1632; again in Wit in a Constable, 1640. See Johnson and Steevens's Edit. 1793, Vol. VIII. 463.

Flawed in such a manner as to diminish its value. Here we are reminded of the days of Bamber Gascoigne; when a cloud seemed to hang over the Borough. But it was soon dissipated.

We laugh at their awkward situation, whilst we lament the annihilation of their official dignity. The Borough of Truro has been always considered as the most respectable of all the corporations in the Western Counties. Not an instance of any peculation— of any wanton expenditure of the public money—of any abuse of power, has occurred, I believe, in the history of our Municipal Government. The dissolution, therefore, of the political existence of a corporate body, who, following the steps of their predecessors, well merit the gratitude of “faithful Cornwall,” (for their influence in Cornwall is of no mean account) must be the subject of regret and indignation with all who wish well to old England. With respect to the sepulchral emblems, the playfulness of the Muse must be taken as it was meant—mere jocularity. No human being is faultless. But I cannot charge any individual in the present groupe with the slightest deviation from all that is just and fair and honourable among men.

The first Recorder, under Elizabeth's charter, bearing date 1589, was Robert Trencreeke of Treworgan, whose daughter Catherine married Degory son of John Polwhele, M.P. for the county of Cornwall. By this marriage, Treworgan became the property of the Polwhele family.

The last Recorder we venerate in the Earl of Falmouth (“Not dead, but dying.”) Among the capital Burgesses we find names of high respectability. Avery [1689]; Ennys, Foote, Polwhele, [1722]; Hussey, Mander, Coster, Thomas, Lemon, [1731]; Vivian, Conon, Macormick, Rosewarne, Cardew, Pellew, Boscawen, Russell, Luxmore, Hoblyn, Daubuz, Carlyon, &c. &c.

John Foote, the first Townclerk in the list before me [1676] held office twenty-six years. Gregor, Hussey, and Mander were likewise Townclerks.

The first operation under the new Act, &c. for improving the Borough, was a public notice, (in which as a justice, &c. I was desired to join the Mayor) that “all dogs suffered to go at large through the streets would be destroyed.” It was reported that the constables, &c. had slighted our order. But this was not a fact. A great number of dogs were seized, &c.

Ray inserts it as a proverb,—“It's a lightning before death.”

A dog-killer on the Continent was appointed to kill dogs in the hot months.—“Would take you now in the habit of a dog-killer in this month of August.”—Ben. Jonson, Bart. Fair.

Lacrymæque per ora non sua fluxerunt. —Ovid.

One of the boundaries of the Borough. The Mayor and Corporation perambulating the Borough, halt at Featherbed in Kenwyn, and perform certain ceremonies.

Kith or kin.

In Camden's Remains I find kiffe—probably a corruption of kith. Forsaking father and mother, kiffe and kinne, p. 214. [Edit. 1623.]

The head of a family or an army, including the whole.

This, if supposed to allude to the scriptural “spreading like a green bay tree,” may imply something more. Of the gambler it may be said, he was spreading—he was fluorishing”—but lo! he was gone! I sought him, and his place could no where be found.”

I knew a lady at Exeter, who under the influence of animal magnetism, cried out: “O I shall shed—I shall shed!”—This is a provincial word—it does not mean to shed tears.

I allude to the tale of “Molly the Scold,” to whom was prescribed a cup of cold water, which, when she found her choler rising, she was to sip till she had sipped it all up.

I do not mean to offer any apology for those who devote themselves to cards. But I denounce not cards altogether: far from it. Much less do I object to music, vocal or instrumental— though neither psalms nor hymns. There are one or two (my opinion of whose good sense would have precluded the suspicion of such Puritanism) who object to a simple, innocent song—as profane. Heaven help them!