Seligor's Castle, fun for all the children of the world.
Mon, 22 Mar 2010
Flower Legends - the Clematis, the Red Geranium and the Wallflower . MC Carey|
A SMALL TALE FROM THE
FLOWER LEGENDS BY M.C.
CAREY "You flowers are
making a perfect catspaw of me
Clematis - Red
little Breeze as he got up with the dawn.
"I am not going
to listen to you any longer. I am going out to sea,
to make mare's tails of the clouds and white horses
of the waves, and if you attempt to stop me I shall
rise into a . . . a perfect Gale, so there
.... !" He added triumphantly, knowing that
gardesns hate gales.
" of course, " remarked a
purple Clematis, which was languishing over the
wall the Breeze was sitting upon, admiring himself
before he went. "Of course, you can blow yourself
into fifty gales, and never scare me. Nothing short
of a tempest even lulls me to sleep ! "
Nonsense, " said the little Breeze
"I was born in a hurricane," the
flower went on tranquilly. Years and years ago the
Cossacks were waging a great war with the Tartars,
and fighting for their very existence.
day, when the battle was at its height, panic
seemed to seize the ranks, and they realised the
tremendous odds pitted against them, and
turned as one man to flee.
Cut to the soul, the
proud old Cossack leader raised his pike and struck
his forehead with the hilt, and on the instant a
mighty tempest rose and whirled like leaves before
the blast the cowardly horseman, and high in
the air their craven dust mingled with that of
their enemies as they died, blown into a thousand
dust the Clematis sprang, but the Cossack tribe
were sore troubled in their souls that their bones
for ever lay amidst the Tartar throng, and, praying
to the holy Saints, they asked that the fair flower
of Clematis might spread far to the Ukraine. The
Saints granted their prayer, and to this day they
hold in Little Russia that if every man would hang
a garland of the flower suspended from his belt, so
quickly would the fallen Cossacks rise again to
So naturally, I am not interested in mere
Gales," the Clematis, concluded, as it fell asleep
"Good-bye," called the red Geranium
from the border as the Breeze began to puff himself
out, ready for departure.
"Give my love to the
Prophet when you meet him ! "
" Why should I ? "
replied the Breeze sulkily between puffs.
only because I belong to him, you know," answered
the Geranium eagerly. "One day he washed his shirt
and threw it over a plant of Mallow to dry. When he
removed it, I was there instead, born by contact
with the sacred garment. Remember me to him when
you meet !"
"All right," said the Breeze. "
If only I could get away." He was now
beginning to rise, and had got himself entangled in
a tuft of Wallflowers "Oh ! what is it you want now
? " He sighed impatiently.
"Nothing much, "
answered the Wallfowers. "But you may as well
listen to us as to anyone else. After all it is our
wall you're sitting on all this time. . . Long,
long ago there lived a young and beautiful maiden,
who was never allowed to set foot outside her
father's garden. It was a beautiful garden, full of
shady trees and fascinating twisty paths, just the
place for hide and seek, only the maiden had no one
with whom to play. She longed to go through the big
gates, and see all the wonderful things that lay
The castle reared its old grey head
upon the far bank of the river Tweed, and the maid
would fain wed the young heir of a hostile clan.
He, rendered desperate by her father's jealous
guard, stole one night to the castle garden and ,
in the guise of a wandering minstrel, sang to his
love of love's enchantment.
In his song he sang to
her of flight, and told her in the soft, melodious
strains to fly with him that night, when she should
hear the moorcock's note borne on the breeze to
greet her listening ear. He there below the wall
would wait, with horse and man, and ride with her
to home and happiness. When darkness fell,
and the moon's fleeting beams sank low, the
moorcock's challenge sounded through the silence,
and the maiden crept from her room, escaping into
the moonlit garden, clad in her banqueting robe of
gold, which she endevoured to conceal unter a
mantle of russet-brown.
The girl bore with her a silken cord to aid her in
her descent from the wall, to the top of which she
easily climbed, as an old Apple tree lent its
gnarled and trusty branches to help on the
adventure. With excited fingers she fastened the
cord to the tree,and, hearing her lover below,
threw down the twisted strand before climbing
carefully down to the encircling shelter of his
But Alas ! tempted down to
slide withal, she brought all her weight to bear
upon the slender strands. 'The silken twist untied'
and she fell , bruised to earth, only to find death
in her lover's arms.
from above , who in the old days looked down in
pity from the halls of Olympus on such deeds of
love, sorrowed for the young couple with such a sad
So, bending low, she turned the maiden into
the blushing flower which ever since has haunted
grey old walls, enriching them with the robe of
gold and cloak of russet-red, which man have learnd
to call the
I do hope you
enjoyed these three small extracts from the
wonderful Flower Legends by M.C.
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