and in this fashion they pace towards a fair
laurel, of such prodigious amplitude as that a hundred persons might rest
at ease under the shadow of its diffused branches. All incline with
obeisance to the tree; and then sing and dance around it; ever a lady and
a knight going together. All these are, (but as is only afterwards at the
close made known to the spectatress of these occurrences,) as you may
easily surmise, the homagers of the Leaf. Now the homagers of the Flower
enter upon the stage. From the depth of the wide champaign there come
roaming in a great company, ladies and knights, and ever a knight and a
lady hand in hand. They are all richly clad in green, and wear chaplets of
flowers; green-robed minstrels, with instruments of all sorts, and wearing
variegated chaplets of flowers precede. They dance up to a great tuft of
flowers in the midst of the mead; about which they incline reverently, and
one sings the praise of the "Margarete" or Daisy, the others answering in
chorus; meanwhile the hour grows to noon; the sun waxes hot; the
unsheltered flowers wither; the ladies and the knights of the Flower are
scorched with his rays; then the wind rises, and furiously blows down all
the flowers; then comes on a terrible storm of mixed hail and rain; wets
the knights and ladies of the Flower to the skin, and at last blows over.
But the white-habited servants of the Leaf have stood under their laurel,
shaded from the fiery noon beams, and shrouded from the tempest; and now,
moved with ruth and pity, come forwards to tender their aid. The Queen of
the Leaf greets, with loving sisterly compassion, the Queen of the Flower.
The party of the Leaf proceed to more effectual relief than soothing
words--hewing down boughs and trees to make "stately fires" for drying
their wet clothes, and searching the plain for virtuous herbs to make for
the blistered and drouthy sufferers salves and salads. She of the Leaf now
invites Her of the Flower to supper, who accepts as courteously. The Leaf
company, at the bidding of their mistress, provide horses for the Flower
company. At this juncture the Nightingale, who all day long, sitting
hidden in the laurel, sang "the service longing to May," flies to the hand
of the Leaf-queen, and sings on as diligently as before--the Goldfinch,
whom the heat had forced from his blossom of "medle-tree" into the cool
bushes, betakes himself in like manner to his Flower-queen's hand, and
sings there; and fast b