Lancashire Asphodel. _Asphodelus Luteus._
Dedicated to _St. Mammertus_.
~May 12.~
Holy Thursday, holiday at the Public Offices, except Excise, Stamp,
and Custom.
_Sts. Nereus_ and _Achilleus_. _St. Flavia Domitilla._ _St. Pancras_,
A. D. 304. _St. Epiphanius_, Abp. A. D. 403. _St. Germanus_, Patriarch
of Constantinople, A. D. 733. _St. Rictrudes_, Abbess, A. D. 688.
~Holy Thursday,~
_Or Ascension Day_.
The anniversary of Christ’s Ascension as kept by the Romish church, is
set forth in the “Popish Kingdome,” thus:
Then comes the day when Christ ascended to his father’s seate
Which day they also celebrate, with store of drinke and meate,
Then every man some birde must eate, I know not to what ende,
And after dinner all to church they come, and their attende
The blocke that on the aultar still, till then was seene to stande,
Is drawne vp hie aboue the roofe, by ropes, and force of hande:
The Priestes about it rounde do stand, and chaunt it to the skie,
For all these mens religion great, in singing most doth lie.
Then out of hande the dreadfull shape of Sathan downe they throw,
Oft times, with fire burning bright, and dasht a sunder tho,[144]
The boyes with greedie eyes do watch, and on him straight they fall,
And beate him sore with rods, and breake him into peeces small.
This done, they wafers downe doe cast, and singing Cakes the while,
With papers round amongst them put, the children to beguile.
With laughter great are all things done: and from the beames they
let
Great streames of water downe to fall, on whom they meane to wet.
And thus this solemne holiday, and hye renowned feast,
And all their whole deuotion here, is ended with a ieast.[145]
It is sufficient for the present to observe of Holy Thursday, that with
us on this day it is a common custom of established usage, for the
minister of each parish, with the parochial officers and other
inhabitants of the parish, followed by the boys of the parish school,
headed by their master, to go in procession to the different parish
boundaries; which boundaries the boys strike with peeled willow wands
that they bear in their hands, and this is called “beating the bounds.”
More, concerning this and other practices connected with the day, is
purposely deferred till the subject be properly set forth hereafter.
_Rule of Health for May._
The month of May is called a “trying” month, to persons long ailing with
critical complaints. It is common to say, “Ah, he’ll never get up
_May-hill_!” or, “If he can climb over _May-hill_ he’ll do.” “As a rule
of health for May,” says Dr. Forster, “we may advise early rising in
particular, as being essentially conducive to that blessing. Every thing
now invites the sluggard to leave his bed and go abroad. Milton has
given such a lively description of morning scenes as must rouse every
lover of the country from his couch:--
_Lines from l’Allegro_
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing, startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the sweet-brier, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine:
While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin;
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before.
Oft listening now the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
Some time walking, not unseen,
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate
Where the great sun begins his state,
Robed in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the ploughman, near at hand,
Whistles o’er the furrow’d land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his sithe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilst the landscape round it measures;
Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains, on whose barren breast,
The labouring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pide,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide:
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosomed high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies,
The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.