'Twas this gentle hint to breathe

That for thee I pluck'd this wreath :
Take it, then, and on thy brow

Let its mingled beauty glow,
But the moral it imparts,-

Wear that in thy heart of hearts.

SORROWFUL NYCTANTHES.

NYCTANTHES, ARBOR-TRISTIS.

Is not your world a mournful one

When your sisters close their eyes,

And your soft breath meets not a lingering tone

Of song in the starry skies?

Take ye no joy in the day-spring's mirth

When it kindles the sparks of dew?

And the thousand strains of the forest's mirth

Shall they gladden all but you?

IT is said of the birds which inhabit the torrid zone, that what they gain in beauty of plumage over those of colder climates, they lose in melody; for when, as the poet says,

"Nature bids them shine

Array'd in all the beauteous beams of day,

Yet, frugal still, she humbles them in song."

Not so, however, with the productions of the vegetable world: they, for the most part, possess both a gorgeousness of bloom, and a richness of fragrance, of which, one

may readily conceive, such as have not visited those lands can form no idea :

"Another Flora there, of bolder hues,

And richer sweets, beyond our gardens' pride,
Plays o'er the fields, and showers with sudden hand
Exuberant spring."

be said of their sylva.

To one

The same also may whose eye has been accustomed to the plain, unpretending grandeur of the oak and elm, how strange must be the appearance of forest trees, covered with large, showy, odoriferous flowers,

"Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,"

and of creepers, which he only knows as choice hot-house specimens, festooning their stems and branches as the ivy does ours!

All oriental travellers are eloquent in praise of the exquisite perfume and astonishing luxuriance of the gardens, groves, and forests of Hindoostan. Forbes, speaking of the Nabob's gardens on Narranseer Lake, says, "After sunset, the atmosphere was filled with fragrance from the orange trees, champahs, and oriental jasmines, wafted by gentle breezes over the lake." Not less "sweet is the breath of morn:" for, after describing

the shrubs, trees, and creeping plants that adorn the enclosed lands in Dhuboy, and which in the rainy season are profusely covered with blossoms of every hue, he adds, "their early fragrance is delicious; the nightly dews, impregnated by the odours, exhale their shortlived sweets, and render a morning walk delightful." This glowing sketch brings to mind a sentiment in a Turkish ode:

:

"The sweetness of the bower has made the air so fragrant,
That the dew before it falls is changed into rose-water;"

which is thus rhythmically rendered by Sir William Jones:

"The dew-drops sprinkled, by the musky gale

Are changed to essence, ere they reach the dale.'

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This elegant and profound scholar speaks with the most delighted enthusiasm of the vegetable wonders of the East; sometimes appearing almost at a loss for terms to describe their variety, beauty, and fragrancy; and to his spirit of research we are indebted for an introduction to many exquisite Indian plants before unknown.

Amongst those which he mentions with the most lavish encomiums, are the Nyctanthes, a tribe nearly allied to the jasmines; indeed, it is a disputed point amongst

botanists to which genus some of the different species belong. The proverbially fragrant sambac, or zambac, according to Sir W. Jones, is called Nava mallica, or many-flowered nyctanthes, and Gærtner also considered it of the same genus; whilst Miller classes it with the jasmines. When the learned differ, who may decide? In two delightful qualities, however, the rival genera certainly agree, namely, in their beauty and perfume.

The tree selected for our purpose is the sép'hálicá, after the Sanscrit nomenclature; the sorrowful nyctanthes of Linnæus (triste being the epithet he always gave to night-blowing flowers). It is thus described by our author: "This gay tree (for nothing sorrowful appears in its nature) spreads its rich odour to a considerable distance every evening; but at sunrise it sheds most of its night-flowers, which are collected with care for the use of perfumers and dyers. My pandits unanimously assure me, that the plant before us is the sép'hálicá, thus named because bees are supposed to sleep on its blossoms."

This nocturnal fragrance has a twofold spell; it not only regales the senses, but affects the imagination, by reminding us of that incense of the heart which is offered "in secret to Him who seeth in secret."