[37] Parkinson.
Wood-Sorrel (Oxalis Acetosella).
Who from the tumps with bright green masses clad,
Plucks the Wood-Sorrel with its light green leaves,
Heart shaped and triply folded; and its root
Creeping like beaded coral.
Charlotte Smith.
The Wood-Sorrel has many pretty names: Alleluia, Hearts, Pain de Coucou, Oseille de Bûcheron; in Italy, Juliola. Wood-Sorrel is a plant of considerable interest. It has put forward strong claims to be identified with St Patrick’s shamrock, and it has been painted, Mr Friend says, “in the foreground of pictures by the old Italian painters, notably Fra Angelico.” For the explanation of the names: “It is called by the Apothecaries in their shoppes Alleluia and Lugula, the one because about that time it is in flower, when Alleluja in antient times was wont to be sung in the Churches; the other came corruptly from Juliola, as they of Calabria in Naples doe call it.” By the “Alleluja sung in the churches,” Parkinson means the Psalms, from Psalm cxiii. to Psalm cxvii. (and including these two), for they end with “Hallelujah,” and were specially appointed to be sung between Easter and Whitsuntide.
“It is called Cuckowbreade, either because the Cuckowes delight to feed thereon, or that it beginneth to flower when the Cuckow beginneth to utter her voyce.” Another name was Stubwort, from its habit of growing over old “stubs” or stumps of trees, and in Wales it was called Fairy Bells, because people thought that the music which called the elves to “moonlight dance and revelry” came from the swinging of the tiny bells. The Latin name is a reminder that oxalic acid is obtained from this plant.
As Evelyn includes it amongst his salad herbs, I mention it here, though feeling bound to add that anyone must be a monster who could regard the graceful leaves and trembling, delicately-veined bells of this plant, full of poetry, with any other sentiment than that of passive admiration!
CHAPTER II
OF HERBS CHIEFLY USED IN THE PAST
The wyfe of Bath was so wery, she had no wyl to walk;
She toke the Priores by the honde, “Madam, wol ye stalk
Pryvely into the garden to se the herbis growe?”
. . . And forth on they wend
Passing forth softly into the herbery.