ap. 5).

We have no less than three legends of the origin of the flower. In one
legend, not older, I believe, than the fourteenth century (the legend is
given at full length by Chaucer in his "Legende of Goode Women"),
Alcestis was turned into a Daisy. Another legend records that "this
plant is called Bellis, because it owes its origin to Belides, a
granddaughter to Danaus, and one of the nymphs called Dryads, that
presided over the meadows and pastures in ancient times. Belides is said
to have encouraged the suit of Ephigeus, but whilst dancing on the grass
with this rural deity she attracted the admiration of Vertumnus, who,
just as he was about to seize her in his embrace, saw her transformed
into the humble plant that now bears her name." This legend I have only
seen in Phillips's "Flora Historica." I need scarcely tell you that
neither Belides or Ephigeus are classical names--they are mediaeval
inventions. The next legend is a Celtic one; I find it recorded both by
Lady Wilkinson and Mrs. Lankester. I should like to know its origin; but
with that grand contempt for giving authorities which lady-authors too
often show, neither of these ladies tells us whence she got the legend.
The legend says that "the virgins of Morven, to soothe the grief of
Malvina, who had lost her infant son, sang to her, 'We have seen, O!
Malvina, we have seen the infant you regret, reclining on a light mist;
it approached us, and shed on our fields a harvest of new flowers. Look,
O! Malvina. Among these flowers we distinguish one with a golden disk
surrounded by silver leaves; a sweet tinge of crimson adorns its
delicate rays; waved by a gentle wind, we might call it a little infant
playing in a green meadow; and the flower of thy bosom has given a new
flower to the hills of Cromla.'" Since that day the daughters of Morven
have consecrated the Daisy to infancy. "It is," said they, "the flower
of innocence, the flower of the newborn." Besides these legends, the
Daisy is also connected with the legendary history of St. Margaret. The
legend is given by Chaucer, but I will tell it to you in the words of a
more modern poet--

"There is a double flouret, white and rede,
That our lasses call Herb Margaret
In honour of Cortona's penitent;
Whose contrite soul with red remorse was rent.
While on her penitence kind Heaven did throwe
The white of puritie surpassing snowe;
So white and rede in this faire floure