urnful wreath,
I'll weave a melancholy song,
And sweet the strain shall be, and long--
The melody of death.

'Come, funeral flower! who lov'st to dwell
With the pale corse in lonely tomb,
And throw across the desert gloom
A sweet decaying smell.
Come, pressing lips, and lie with me
Beneath the lonely alder-tree,
And we will sleep a pleasant sleep,
And not a care shall dare intrude
To break the marble solitude,
So peaceful and so deep.

'And hark! the wind-god, as he flies,
Moans hollow in the forest trees,
And, sailing on the gusty breeze,
Mysterious music dies.
Sweet flower! the requiem wild is mine.
It warns me to the lonely shrine--
The cold turf-altar of the dead.
My grave shall be in yon lone spot,
Where, as I lie by all forgot,
A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed.'

In South Wales, in Cheshire, and in Bucks, the custom still obtains,
according to Mr. Hilderic Friend, for each mourner to carry a sprig of
rosemary to the grave, into which it is thrown. For weddings, rosemary
was dipped in scented water, but for funerals in plain water. Hence the
reference in an old play, quoted by Hone:

'If there be
Any so kind as to accompany
My body to the earth, let them not want
For entertainment. Prythee, see they have
A sprig of rosemary, dipp'd in common water,
To smell at as they walk along the streets.'

In Dekker's Wonderful Year there is a description of a charnel-house
pavement strewed with withered rosemary, hyacinth, cypress, and yew.
During the Plague rosemary was in such demand for funerals that, says
Dekker, what 'had wont to be sold for twelvepence an armfull went now at
six shillings a handfull.' Certainly a remarkable rise. What the price
was in 1531 we know not; but in an account of the funeral expenses of a
Lord Mayor of London, who died in that year, appears an item, 'For
yerbes at the bewyral L0 1 0'--which presumably refers to rosemary.

'Cypresse garlands,' wrote Coles, 'are of great account at funeralls
among the gentiler sort; but Rosemary and Bayes are used by the commons
both at funeralls and weddings. They are all plants which fade not a
good while after they are gathered and used, as I conceive, to intimate
unto us that the remembrance of the present solemnity might not die
presently, but be kept in minde for many yeares.'

We have now seen something of the many