MAY.

Among the changing months, May stands confest
The sweetest, and in fairest colours drest.

Thomson.

The fifth month derived its name either from Maia, the mother of Mercury, or Maia, one of the Pleiades, and daughter of Atlas. Others, however, suppose it to have been named Maius by Romulus, in honor of the nobles and senators of Rome.

1. MAY DAY.

This day was formerly one of much rural festivity in England, and the May-pole adorned most rural districts. The opening bounties of Providence which the season puts forth seemed to awaken the gratitude of mortals in their innocent festivity. The custom, however, has now fallen into total disuse.

Olaus, in his History of the Northern Nations, says: "On the first of May the country is divided into two bands, the captain of one of which hath the name and appearance of Winter, is clothed in skins of beasts, and he and his band armed with fire-forks. They fling about ashes, by way of prolonging the reign of Winter; while another band, whose captain is called Florro, represent

Spring, with green boughs such as the season offers. These parties skirmish in sport, and the mimic contest concludes with a general feast."

Another custom is mentioned by Waldron in his History of the Isle of Man, published in 1731 :—“ In almost all the great parishes they choose from among the daughters of the most wealthy farmers, a young maid, for the Queen of May. She is drest in the gayest and best manner they can, and is attended by about twenty others, who are called maids of honour. She has also a young man, who is her captain, and has under his command a good number of inferior officers. In opposition to her, is the Queen of Winter, who is a man drest in woman's clothes, with woollen hood, fur tippet, and loaded with the warmest and heaviest habits, one upon another; in the same manner are those who represent her attendants, drest; nor is she without a captain and troop for her defence. Both being equipt as proper emblems of the beauty of the spring, and the deformity of the winter, they set forth from their respective quarters; the one preceded by violins and flutes, the other with the rough music of the tongs and cleavers. Both companies march till they meet on a common, and then their trains engage in a mock battle. If the Queen of Winter's forces get the better, so far as to take the Queen of May prisoner, she is ransomed for as much as pays the expences of the day. After this ceremony, Winter and her company retire, and divert themselves in a barn, and the others remain on the green, where, having danced a considerable time, they conclude the evening with a feast; the queen at one table with her maids, the captain with his troops at

another. There are seldom less than fifty or sixty persons at each board, but not more than three or four knives."

THE VISION OF O'DONOGHUE ON MAY MORNING.*
BY MISS M. L. BEEVOR.

To roam, to muse,-to hail the sun
On the glorious dawn of May

I rose ;-deliciously begun

That aye remember'd day.

A breeze sigh'd o'er the blue, serene
Young Heav'n, of holy haunted Lean,
Soft and sweet as their feathery breath
Who've never tasted of tears and death!
And sweet and soft, was the transient kiss
It press'd on that lone, romantic shore,

Whose green vitality seem'd to bless
A breath, escap'd by the gates of bliss
From Heav'n,-an air, whose sighings o'er
The sylvan wilderness,

To life awoke in its freshest spring
Each sheathed bud, and delicate wing!
Bright was the lake,—and calm it seemed
As the virgin's eyes of grace,

When visions upon her soul have beam'd,
(Where Heav'n alone hath place)

In beautiful wilds, as she fondly dream'd

*For "The Legend of O'Donoghue" the reader is referred to Mr. T. C. Croker's admirable "Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland," and "Killarney Legends.' It may be, however, as well to observe, that the Irish in the vicinity of Loch Lean, or Killarney, believe that O'Donoghue, a virtuous and beloved prince of other days, rises on the morning of the first of May, from Thierna na Oge, i.e. The Land of Immortal Youth, situated beneath the waters, in order to bless the country which, and the descendents of the people whom, once he governed.

Each odorous breeze was the spicy sigh
Of a seraph, on air-wings floating by ;
Yea, like the eyes of such maid as this
Shone the Lean, on that morn of bliss!
I roam'd,—nor were my dreamings few,
I'the dawn of festive May,

When shadowy mists of sapphirine hue,
Encradled infant day;

When the familiar wilds seem'd new
And unimaginably bright;

When the lone mystic lake-shore grew,
Unto my marv'lling sight,

A Paradise of foliage,―flowers,—
Of waters,-winds,-and peace,-
Wherein the silent, golden hours
Unrack'd should lapse,-nor cease
Eternally to bless :-

But lo! the lake

Did, as I gaz'd, its quietude forsake ;—
I mark'd its bosom swell, and waves increase,
Which, with a bound, on the green shore roll'd
Sparkling and flashing, in azure and gold,—
Like bridegrooms dight in their boon array
For the dearest, the holiest festal day!

Then, from beneath those gem-like springs,
With music, whose magic utterings

May ne'er by mortal lips be told,
Leapt water-sylphids to unfold
Their glittering, gossamer wings :

And then, majestic from the Land of Youth,
Land of the soul's ineffable repose,-

The RIGHTEOUS PRINCE of other years arose, With cloudy plumes, which like the drifting snow, Curl'd in translucent air;

With milk-white steed, and armour bright as truth, Whilst, all ethereal were

By years unchang'd, unscath'd by care, His peerless form, and his divinest brow!

Whilst his eyes glaneing o'er earth and sky,

Beam'd love, which might neither wane nor die,
And he came,-he came,-from his Home of Peace,
To bid the stores of our land increase!

Up! Up! and away! his courser sprung

--

With a wild, resistless bound,

Its silvery hoofs on the waters rung

Faint as on mossy ground;

Whilst spray from the flashing waves was flung,

Like crystal-dust,-around

Horsemen,

horse,—and those who sung

Lays, in their unwritten tongue,

To the Knight of the Glittering Mail.—
A jocund throng of the deathless young,
Who trod the buoyant gale,

Like sylphie graces, and fairy hours,
Together link'd by amarant flowers!*
With laughing eyes, and twinkling feet,
With twining arms, and measures sweet
As their Peri forms of light,
Around, and o'er O'Donoghue
Whirl'd th' immortal,-joyous crew,—

The ever blest, and bright!—

Whose breath was song, and whose rainbow wings
Were of thousand odours, the thousand springs.

On,-on,-the steed and the warrior rush'd,
And up, the delicate waters gush'd

In diamond drops, like the jewels set

On the wreath, his fairy coronet;

Whilst his plumes snow-white, and his baldric blue, (Rivalling pale morn's sapphirine hue)

Kiss'd in the conscious breeze as they met.

I gaz'd on this gorgeous pageantry

With a strange delight,—with a joyous awe,—
But soon, too soon,-and alas! I saw,

(Like those from mocking gramarye,

*Immortal AMARANT, &c,-Milton.