Misson, who travelled in Italy in the beginning of the last century,
speaks of May there in these terms. “The present season of the year
inspires all the world with joy and good humour; and this month is every
where particularly remarkable for sports and festivals: but I never saw
a more diverting object than troops of young girls, who regaled us with
dances and songs on all this road; though perhaps the rarity of the sex
might, in some measure, contribute to heighten the pleasure we took in
seeing these merry creatures. Five or six of the prettiest and best
attired girls of the village meet together, and go from house to house
singing, and wishing every where a ‘merry May.’ All their songs consist
of a great number of wishes, which are commonly very pleasant; for they
wish you may at once enjoy all the pleasures of youth, and of the
blooming season: that you may be still possessed with an equal love,
morning and evening: that you may live a hundred and two years: that
every thing you may eat may be turned to sugar and oil: that your
clothes and lace may never wear old: that nature may smile eternally,
and that the goodness of its fruits may surpass the beauty of its
flowers, &c. And then come their spiritual wishes: that the lady of
Loretto may pour down her favours upon you: that the soul of St. Anthony
of Padua may be your guardian angel: that St. Katharine of Sienna may
intercede for you. And, for the burthen of the song, after every stanza,
‘_Allegro Magio, Allegro Magio_:’ ‘a merry, merry, merry May.’” To this
picture of gladness might be added scenes from other countries, which
testify the general rejoicing under the genial influence of the month.
* * * * *
All gentle hearts confess the quick’ning spring,
For May invig’rates every living thing.
Hark how the merry minstrels of the grove
Devote the day to melody and love;
Their little breasts with emulation swell,
And sweetly strive in singing to excel.
In the thick forests feed the cooing dove;
The starling whistles various notes of love;
Up spring the airy larks, shrill voic’d and loud,
And breathe their matins from a morning cloud,
To greet glad nature, and the god of day,
And flow’ry Venus, blooming queen of May
Thus sing the sweet musicians on the spray:
Welcome thou lord of light, and lamp of day;
Welcome to tender herbs and myrtle bowers,
Welcome to plants and odour-breathing flowers,
Welcome to every root upon the plain,
Welcome to gardens, and the golden grain:
Welcome to birds that build upon the breere,
Welcome great lord and ruler of the year:
Welcome thou source of universal good,
Of buds to boughs, and beauty to the wood:
Welcome bright Phœbus, whose prolific power
In every meadow spreads out every flower;
Where’er thy beams in wild effulgence play,
Kind nature smiles and all the world is gay.
_Gawin Douglas, by Fawkes._
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