EL CLAVEL [35].
The carnation is the flower of predilection of the Andalusianpeasant. His cottage does not seem like home without its scent; noris the maiden's toilet complete without one of its glorious blossomsplaced behind her ear, in the ebon setting of her massive hair-braids:it is the token of gladness in their festivals; of love, where coylyoffered with a trembling hand. The people sing of its perfectionsand its meaning in a thousand little ditties.
Among all the trees of the wood The laurel bears questionless sway. What maid can compete with my Anna? What flower, with carnations, I pray [36]?
They always speak of it, thus, as only next in order to female beauty,and the amorous swain is continually raising the comparison.
To January's biting frost No carnation trusts its charms, The tints that Heav'n thy cheeks has given, Are dyed ingrain and fear no harms [37],
he sings; or perhaps,--
My carnation was raising a plaint, I ask'd it to tell me its grief, And it said that thy lips were so fair, Of their charms it would e'en be the thief [38].
The one his fair has given him he declares binds him to her for ever.
The carnation which thou gav'st me, On holy Thursday last, Was no flower, but a fetter To bind me to thee fast [39].
The one she nurtures he watches as a token of all that is dearestand most beautiful in her.
My maid has a fav'rite carnation Which she watches both early and late; I give it a kiss on its petals, Whenever I pass by her gate [40].
And she in her turn guards her charge with a jealous eye.
A ruddy carnation have I, But I keep it secure from the cold, And I shade off the gaze of the sun, Lest it tarnish, if he were too bold [41].
Such a carnation was once thus tended by a poor village girl: it hadgrown up and blossomed and put forth its deep, rich hues under hercare, though she was so poor that she had nothing to grow it in buta broken olla [42]. Nevertheless when she thought of the happy daywhen it should become a love-token to one worthy of her, she tooksuch care of it, covering it up when the sun was too hot, wateringit with water from the purest spring, sheltering it from the wind,bringing it into her room to guard through the night, lest any evilshould befall it, that never carnation flourished so gloriously;it was her only flower, the object of her whole care.
One day there came into the garden a maja [43] in her galacostume. According to the pretty Andalusian custom, she carried abunch of bright, sparkling flowers twisted into her raven hair behindher left ear.
"Ah!" cried the handsome carnation from the depths of its broken olla,"why should it not be my lot to adorn the head of this lovely creature,instead of being abandoned to the care of a penniless peasant?"
The maja smiled, and passed round the garden two or three times,to see if the carnation persisted in his idea. Every time her blackveil caught, as she passed, in the sharp edge of the broken pipkin,the carnation wafted a soft sigh,--
"Ah, why was I not born to adorn that shining hair?"
The maja deferred no longer to fulfil his wish: throwing the bunch ofshowy flowers on to the ground, she plucked the carnation and plaitedit into her hair.
Right proud was the carnation to find himself thus grandly enthroned;far too proud to have a thought of compassion for the other flowerscast away for his sake; too triumphant even to smart under the punctureof the hair-pin which fixed him on the maja's head. Many a scornfulglance he cast at the broken olla which had been his nursery, andthe cot of the lowly child who had nurtured him.
Thus he was borne about, displaying his beautiful hues in the sun,and charming every one with his perfume all day. Then night came:the maja stood at her reja [44], looking out for her serenader. Hecame at last, and brought in his hand a beautiful white rose; themaja stretched out her hand to receive it with delight; with loudand joyous thanks she placed it on her head, flinging the haplesscarnation from her without a thought.
Instead of blooming on his lordly stalk as at the first, the prideand pet of the peasant maid, he was soon trampled to atoms by a droveof pigs, passing on their way to market!
Patrañas; or, Spanish Stories, Legendary and Traditional Page 15
