It is to this notion that Shakespeare alludes in “Hamlet,” where Laertes wishes that violets may spring from the grave of Ophelia (v. I):
“Lay her
in the earth,
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets spring.”
A passage which is almost identical to one in the “Satires” of Persius (i. 39):
“E tumulo fortunataque favilla,
Nascentur violae;”
And an idea, too, which Tennyson seems to have borrowed:
“And from his ashes may be made,
The violet of his native land.”
Again, in the well-known story of “Tristram and Ysonde,” a further reference occurs: “From his grave there grew an eglantine which twined about the statue, a marvel for all men to see; and though three times they cut it down, it grew again, and ever wound its arms about the image of the fair Ysonde[32].” In the Scottish ballad of “Fair Margaret and Sweet William,” it is related—
“Out of her breast there sprang
a rose,
And out of his a briar;
They grew till they grew unto the church
top,
And there they tied in a true lovers’
knot.”
The same idea has prevailed to a large extent among savage races. Thus, some of the North-Western Indians believed that those who died a natural death would be compelled to dwell among the branches of tall trees. The Brazilians have a mythological character called Mani—a child who died and was buried in the house of her mother. Soon a plant sprang out of the grave, which grew, flourished, and bore fruit. This plant, says Mr. Dorman,[33] was the Mandioca, named from Mani, and Oca, house. By the Mexicans marigolds are known as “death-flowers,” from a legend that they sprang up on the ground stained by, “the life-blood of those who fell victims to the love of gold and cruelty of the early Spanish settlers in America.”