Autumnal Pheasant’s Eye. _Adonis autumnalis._
Dedicated to _St. Raymund_.
[Illustration: ~September.~]
Next him September marched eke on foot;
Yet was he heavy laden with the spoyle
Of harvest’s riches, which he made his boot,
And him enriched with bounty of the soyle;
In his one hand, as fit for harvest’s toyle,
He held a knife-hook; and in th’ other hand
A paire of weights, with which he did assoyle
Both more and lesse, where it in doubt did stand,
And equal gave to each as justice duly scanned.
This is the ninth month of the year: anciently it was the seventh, as
its name imports, which is compounded of _septem_, seven, and _imber_, a
shower of rain, from the rainy season usually commencing at this period
of the year.
Our Saxon ancestors called this month “_Gerst-monat_, for that barley
which that moneth commonly yeelded was antiently called _gerst_, the
name of barley being given unto it by reason of the drinke therewith
made, called beere, and from _beerlegh_ it come to be _berlegh_, and
from _berleg_ to barley. So in like manner _beereheym_, to wit, the
overdecking or covering of _beere_, came to be called _berham_, and
afterwards _barme_, having since gotten I wot not how many names
besids.--This excellent and healthsome liquor, beere, antiently also
called _ael_, as of the Danes it yet is (beere and ale being in effect
all one,) was first of the Germans invented, and brought in use.”[268]
Mr. Leigh Hunt notices, that Spenser takes advantage of the exuberance
of harvest, and the sign of the zodiac, _libra_, in this month, to read
another lesson on justice. “This is the month,” Mr. Hunt continues, “of
the migration of birds, of the finished harvest, of nut-gathering, of
cyder and perry-making, and, towards the conclusion, of the change of
colour in trees. The swallows and many other soft-billed birds that feed
on insects, disappear for the warmer climates, leaving only a few
stragglers behind, probably from weakness or sickness, who hide
themselves in caverns and other sheltered places, and occasionally
appear upon warm days. The remainder of harvest is got in; and no sooner
is this done, than the husbandman ploughs up his land again, and
prepares it for the winter grain. The oaks and beeches shed their nuts,
which in the forest that still remain, particularly the New Forest in
Hampshire, furnish a luxurious repast for the swine, who feast of an
evening in as pompous a manner as any alderman, to the sound of the
herdsman’s horn. But the acorn must not be undervalued because it is
food for swine, nor thought only robustly of, because it furnishes our
ships with timber. It is also one of the most beautiful objects of its
species, protruding its glossy green nut from its rough and
sober-coloured cup, and dropping it in a most elegant manner beside the
sunny and jagged leaf. We have seen a few of them, with their stems in
water, make a handsome ornament to a mantle-piece, in this season of
departing flowers.--The few additional flowers this month are
cornflowers, Guernsey-lilies, starwort, and saffron, a species of
crocus, which is cultivated in separate grounds. The stamens of this
flower are pulled, and dried into flat square cakes for medicinal
purposes. It was formerly much esteemed in cookery. The clown in the
_Winter’s Tale_, reckoning up what he is to buy for the sheepshearing
feast, mentions ‘saffron to colour the warden-pies.’ The fresh trees and
shrubs in flower are bramble, chaste-tree, laurustinus, ivy, wild
honeysuckle, spirea, and arbutus, or strawberry-tree, a favourite of
Virgil, which, like the garden of Alcinous, in Homer, produces flower
and fruit at once. Hardy annuals, intended to flower in the spring,
should now be sown; annuals of curious sorts, from which seed is to be
raised, should be sheltered till ripened; and auriculas in pots, which
were shifted last month, moderately watered. The stone-curlew clamours
at the beginning of this month, wood-owls hoot, the ring-ouzel
reappears, the saffron butterfly is seen, hares congregate; and, at the
end of it, the woodlark, thrush, and blackbird, are heard.”
Mr. Hunt further observes that, September, though its mornings and
evenings are apt to be chill and foggy, and therefore not wholesome to
those who either do not, or cannot, guard against them, is generally a
serene and pleasant month, partaking of the warmth of summer and the
vigour of autumn. But its noblest feature is a certain festive abundance
for the supply of all the creation. There is grain for men, birds, and
horses, hay for the cattle, loads of fruit on the trees, and swarms of
fish in the ocean. If the soft-billed birds which feed on insects miss
their usual supply, they find it in the southern countries, and leave
one’s sympathy to be pleased with an idea, that repasts apparently more
harmless are alone offered to the creation upon our temperate soil. The
feast, as the philosophic poet says on a higher occasion--
The feast is such as earth, the general mother,
Pours from her fairest bosom, when she smiles
In the embrace of Autumn. To each other
As some fond parent fondly reconciles
Her warring children, she their wrath beguiles
With their own sustenance; they, relenting, weep.
Such is this festival, which from their isles,
And continents, and winds, and oceans deep,
All shapes may throng to share, that fly, or walk, or creep.
_Shelley._
[268] Verstegan.
~September 1.~
_St. Giles_, Abbot, 7th Cent. _Twelve Brothers_, Martyrs, A. D. 258.
_St. Lupus_, or _Leu_, Abp. A. D. 623. _St. Firminus II._, Bp. of
Amiens, A. D. 347.
_St. Giles._
This saint is in the church of England calendar. He was born at Athens,
and came into France in 715, having first disposed of his patrimony to
charitable uses. After living two years with Cæsarius, bishop of Arles,
he commenced hermit, and so continued till he was made abbot of an abbey
at Nismes, which the king built for his sake. He died in 750.[269]
St. Giles is the _patron of beggars_. Going to church in his youth, he
gave his coat to a sick beggar who asked alms of him, the mendicant was
clothed, and the garment miraculously cured his disorder. He was also
the _patron of cripples_. After he had retired to a cave in a solitary
desert, the French king was hunting near his thicket, and Giles was
wounded by an arrow from a huntsman’s bow while at prayers; whereupon
being found unmoved from his position, the king fell at his feet, craved
his pardon, and gave orders for the cure of his wound, but this the
saint would not permit, because he desired to suffer pain and increase
his merits thereby, and so he remained a cripple, and received reverence
from the king whom he counselled to build a monastery; and the king did
so, and Giles became abbot thereof, “and led the life of an angel
incarnate,” and converted the king.[270] It is related of him that he
raised the dead son of a prince to life, and made a lame man walk: our
church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, is dedicated to him. It is further
told, that at Rome he cast two doors of cypress into the Tiber, and
recommended them to heavenly guidance, and on his return to France found
them at the gates of his monastery, and set them up as the doors of his
own church. These are some only of the marvels gravely told of him,
“many wytnisse that they herde the company of aungelles berynge the
soule of hym into heven.”[271]
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