CHAPTER VII
OF HERBS AND BEASTS
Here may’st thou range the goodly, pleasant field,
And search out simples to procure thy heal,
What sundry virtues, sundry herbs do yield,
’Gainst grief which may thy sheep or thee assail.
Eclogue vii.—Drayton.
And tryed time yet taught me greater thinges;
The sodain rising of the raging seas,
The soothe of byrdes by beating of their winges,
The powre of herbes, both which can hurt and ease;
And which be wont t’enrage the restless sheepe,
And which be wont to worke eternal sleepe.
Shepheard’s Calendar.—Spenser.
And did you hear wild music blow
All down the boreen, long and low,
The tramp of ragweed horses’ feet,
And Una’s laughter wild and sweet.
The Passing of the Shee.—N. Hopper.
Herbs and animals may appear linked together in many aspects, but there are two in which I specially wish to look at them—first, glancing at the old traditions that tell of beasts and birds themselves having preferences among herbs; secondly, the human reasoning, which decreed that certain plants must benefit or affect special creatures. The glamour of magic at times hovers over both. Ragwort is St James’s Wort (the French call it Jacobée), and St James is the patron saint of horses, therefore Ragwort is good for horses, and has even gained the name of the Staggerwort, from being often prescribed for “the staggers.” This is a good specimen of the reasoning, but there is romance about the plant which is far more attractive. Besides being good for horses, it is actually the witches’ own horse! There is a high granite rock called the Castle Peak, south of the Logan Rock in Cornwall, where, as tales run, witches were specially fond of gathering, and thither they rode on moonlight nights on a stem of Ragwort. In Ireland, it is the fairies ride it, and there it is sometimes called the Fairy’s Horse.
Reach up to the star that hangs the lowest,
Tread down the drift of the apple blow,
Ride your ragweed horse to the Isle of Wobles.