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virtues of the plant were regarded with superstitious reverence.
Thus we find Gerarde stating, that the mere wearing of the root,
“ hanged about women,” had a salutary effect; and that he himself
had instrudted his wife to employ its leaves when tending divers
women in their confinement. The old herbalist also tells us that
he had Cyclamens growing in his garden, but that for fear any
matrons should, accidentally, step over them, and by this means
bring on miscarriage, he fenced them in with sticks, and laid others
crossways over them, “ lest any woman should, by lamentable
experiment, find my words to be true, by their stepping over the
same.” He further warns those who are about to become mothers
not to touch or take this herb, or to come near unto it, on account
of “ the naturale attractive vertue therein contained.” According
to Theophrastus, Cyclamen was employed by the ancients to excite
love and voluptuous desires. Placed in a dormitory, this plant
was supposed to protedt the inmate:—
“ St. John’s Wort and fresh Cyclamen she in his chamber kept,
From the power of evil angels to guard him while he slept.”
The old English names of C)'clamen were Sow-bread and Swine-
bread. It was considered under the dominion of Mars.
C Y P R E S S .—Ovid tells us of the “ taper Cypress,” that it is
sacred to Apollo, and was once a fair youth, Cyparissus by name,
who was a great favourite of the god. Cyparissus became much
attached to a “ mighty stag,” which grazed on the fertile fields of
Caea and was held sacred to Carthaean nymphs. His constant
companion, this gentle stag was one day unwittingly pierced to the
heart by a dart thrown by the luckless youth. Overcome with
remorse, Cyparissus would fain have killed himself but for the
intervention of Apollo, who bade him not mourn more than the
loss of the animal required. Unable, however, to conquer his grief,
Cyparissus at length prayed the superior powers, that as an expiation,
he should be doomed to mourn to all succeeding time: the
gods therefore turned him into a Cypress-tree. Ovid thus relates
the tale :—
“ And now of blood exhausted he appears,
Drained by a torrent of continual tears ;
The fleshy colour in his body fades,
And a green tincture all his limbs invades ;
From his fair head, where curling locks late hung,
A horrid bush with bristled branches sprung,
Which, stiff’n ing by degrees, its stem extends,
Till to the starry skies the spire ascends.
Apollo sad looked on, and sighing cried,
Then be for ever what thy prayer implied;
Bemoaned by me, in others grief excite,
And still preside at every funeral rite.”— Congreve.
According to another account, Silvanus, god of the woods (who
is sometimes represented holding a branch of Cypress in his hand),
became enamoured of a handsome youth named- Cyparissus, who
was changed into the tree bearing his name. Rapin gives the
following version of the story :—
“ A lovely fawn there was—Sylvanus’ joy,
Nor less the fav’rite of the sportive boy,
Which on soft grass was in a secret shade,
Beneath a tree’s thick branches cooly laid ;
A luckless dart rash Cyparissus threw,
And undesignedly the darling slew.
But soon he to his grief the error found,
Lamenting, when too late, the fatal wound :
Nor yet Sylvanus spared the guiltless child.
But the mischance with bitter words reviled,
This struck so deep in his relenting breast,
With grief and shame, and indignation prest,
That tired of life he melted down in tears,
From whence th’ impregnate earth a Cypress rears ;
Ensigns of sorrow these at first were born,
Now their fair race the rural scenes adorn.”
In a legend current among the Greeks, the Cypress owes its
origin to the daughters of Eteocles, King of Thebes. Carried
away by the goddesses in a whirlwind, which kept revolving them in
endless circles, they were at length precipitated into a pond, upon
which Gæa took compassion on the young girls, and changed them
into Cypress-trees. Perhaps owing to its funereal and sorrowful
charac/er, the Cypress has been named as the tree which furnished
the wood of the Saviour’s Cross. An ancient legend referred to
in the ‘ Gospel of Nicodemus,’ Curzon’s ‘ Monasteries of the Levant,’
and other works, carries the history of the Cross back as far as
the time of Adam. In substance it is as follows :—Adam, one
day, fell sick, and sent his son Seth to the Garden of Eden to ask
the guardian angel for some drops of the oil of mercy, distilled from
the Tree of Life. The angel replied that none could have that till
five thousand years had passed, but gave him a slip of the tree,
which was afterwards planted on Adam’s grave, and grew into a
goodly tree with three branches. Another version states that the
Angel in Paradise gave Seth three seeds, which he placed under
Adam’s tongue before burial, from which they grew into the
Cypress, the Cedar, and the Pine. These were subsequently carried
away by Moses, who cut his rod from them, and King David
transplanted them near a fountain at Jerusalem, where the three
saplings combined and grew into one grand tree. Under its umbrageous
shade he composed his Psalms and lamented his sins.
His son Solomon afterwards cut it down for a pillar in his Temple,
but no one was able to fix it there. Some say it was preserved in
the Temple, while others aver that it formed a bridge across a
marsh, which the Queen of Sheba refused to pass, being deterred
by a vision of its future burden. It was afterwards buried in the
Pool of Bethesda, thereby accounting for the healing properties
possessed by its waters. At the Passion, it floated and was taken
for the Cross, or, as some say, for the upright beam. Henry