n out,
and do present un with a van of rosemary and bays, enough to vill a
bow-pott or trim the head of my best vore-horse; we shall all ha'
bride-laces and points, I see.' And again, a country swain assures his
sweetheart at their wedding: 'We'll have rosemary and bayes to vill a
bow-pott, and with the same I'll trim the vorehead of my best
vore-horse'--so that it would seem the decorative use was not confined
to the bride, the guests, and the banquet.

As a love-charm the reputation of rosemary seems to have come from the
South. There is an old Spanish proverb which runs:

'Who passeth by the rosemarie,
And careth not to take a spray,
For woman's love no care has he,
Nor shall he, though he live for aye.'

Mr. Thiselton-Dyer says that rosemary is used in some parts of the
country, as nut-charms are on Halloween, to foretell a lover; only, St.
Agnes' Eve is the occasion on which to invoke with a sprig of rosemary,
or thyme, with this formula:

'St. Agnes, that's to lovers kind,
Come, ease the troubles of my mind.'

For love-potions, decoctions of rosemary were much employed.

As to funereal uses, those who are familiar with Hogarth's drawings will
remember one of a funeral party with sprigs of rosemary in their hands.
Misson, a French traveller (_temp._ William the Third), thus describes
English funeral ceremonies: 'When they are ready to set out, they nail
up the coffin, and a servant presents the company with sprigs of
rosemary. Everyone takes a sprig and carries it in his hand till the
body is put into the grave, at which time they all throw their sprigs in
after it.' Hence Gay:

'To show their love, the neighbours far and near,
Follow'd with wistful looks the damsel's bier;
Sprigg'd rosemary the lads and lasses bore,
While dismally the parson walk'd before.
Upon her grave the rosemary they threw.'

Whether the fact that the rosemary buds in January has anything to do
with its funereal uses admits of conjecture, as Sir Thomas Browne would
say; but that fact was certainly present to the writer of the following
verses, which were worthily rescued by Hone from a 'fugitive copy,'
although the writer's name has been lost:

'Sweet-scented flower! who art wont to bloom
On January's front severe,
And o'er the wintry desert drear
To waft thy waste perfume!
Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now,
And I will bind thee round my brow;
And, as I twine the mo