The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction | Page 2

heap of mould which covers the
poor man's grave, though it has nothing to defend it from the insults of
the proud but a bramble. The primrose that grows upon it is a better
ornament than the gilded lies on the oppressor's tombstone."
The Greeks had a custom of bedecking tombs with herbs and flowers,
among which parsley was chiefly in use, as appears from Plutarch's
story of Timoleon, who, marching up an ascent, from the top of which
he might take a view of the army and strength of the Carthaginians, was
met by a company of mules laden with parsley, which his soldiers
conceived to be a very ill boding and fatal occurrence, that being the
very herb wherewith they adorned the sepulchres of the dead. This
custom gave birth to that despairing proverb, when we pronounce of
one dangerously sick, that he has need of nothing but parsley; which is
in effect to say, he's a dead man, and ready for the grave. All sorts of
purple and white flowers were acceptable to the dead; as the
amaranthus, which was first used by the Thessalians to adorn Achilles's
grave. The rose, too, was very grateful; nor was the use of myrtle less
common. In short, graves were bedecked with garlands of all sorts of
flowers, as appears from Agamemnon's daughter in Sophocles:--
"No sooner came I to my father's tomb, But milk fresh pour'd in
copious streams did flow, And flowers of ev'ry sort around were
strow'd."
Several other tributes were frequently laid upon graves, as ribands;
whence it is said that Epaminondas's soldiers being disanimated at
seeing the riband that hung upon his spear carried by the wind to a
certain Lacedæmonian sepulchre, he bid them take courage, for that it
portended destruction to the Lacedæmons, it being customary to deck
the sepulchres of their dead with ribands. Another thing dedicated to

the dead was their hair. Electra, in Sophocles, says, that Agamemnon
had commanded her and Chrysosthemis to pay this honour:--
"With drink-off'rings and locks of hair we must, According to his will,
his tomb adorn."
It was likewise customary to perfume the grave-stones with sweet
ointments, &c.
P.T.W.
* * * * *
SONG.
(For the Mirror.)
I've roam'd the thorny path of life, And search'd abroad to find. Amid
the blooming flowers so rife, That germ called peace of mind. At length
a lovely lily caught My anxious, longing view, With all the sweets of
"Heartsease" fraught, That fragrant flower was YOU.
Thy smile to me is Heaven divine, Thy voice the soul of Love-- In pity,
then, sweet maid, be mine, My "heartsease" flow'ret prove. Nor wealth
nor power would I attain, Though uncontrolled and free-- All other joys
to me are pain, When sever'd, love, from THEE.
ELFORD.
* * * * *
CHARLES BRANDON, AFTERWARDS DUKE OF SUFFOLK.
(For the Mirror.)
An event in the life of this nobleman gave Otway the plot for his
celebrated tragedy of "The Orphan," though he laid the scene of his
play in Bohemia. It is recorded in the "English Adventures," a very
scarce pamphlet, published in 1667, only two or three copies of which

are extant. The father of Charles Brandon retired, on the death of his
lady, to the borders of Hampshire. His family consisted of two sons,
and a young lady, the daughter of a friend, lately deceased, whom he
adopted as his own child.
This lady being singularly beautiful, as well as amiable in her manners,
attracted the affections of both the brothers. The elder, however, was
the favourite, and he privately married her; which the younger not
knowing, and overhearing an appointment of the lovers to meet the
next night in her bed-chamber, he contrived to get his brother otherwise
employed, and made the signal of admission himself, (thinking it a
mere intrigue.) Unfortunately he succeeded.
On discovery, the lady lost her reason, and soon after died. The two
brothers fought, and the elder fell. The father broke his heart a few
months afterwards. The younger brother, Charles Brandon, the
unintentional author of all this family misery, quitted England in
despair, with a fixed determination of never returning.
Being abroad for several years, his nearest relations supposed him dead,
and began to take the necessary steps for obtaining his estates; when,
roused by this intelligence, he returned privately to England, and for a
time took obscure lodgings in the vicinity of his family mansion.
While he was in this retreat, the young king, (Henry VIII.), who had
just buried his father, was one day hunting on the borders of Hampshire,
when he heard the cries of a female in distress in an adjoining wood.
His gallantry immediately summoned him to the place, though he then
happened to be detached from all