312 THE PRAISE OF GARDENS 



warm shadows about the names of lovers long since forg 

 dead, wrought upon the tablet leaves of aloes or of cai^us. 

 There mesembrianthemums shine still, sunned over as of '-•• = 

 with rayed discs of red and yellow, while basking lizards at 

 approach rustle away under the leaves. Lean over the 

 parapet wall and watch the waves dash in white foam agains 

 jagged rocks below. The old cliff blooms out into cistus 

 spikes of purple stocks ; midway the sea-birds scream and \ 

 above the little fishing-boats, tossing like fairy nut-shells on 

 crisp blue summer sea. From the sunny Mediterranean and 

 narrow strip of hanging garden, dream on into the black cyp • - 

 shades of Tuscany. 



In all Italy — the land of flowers, the garden of the worl 

 there are no gardens more stately, nor any nobler cypress-tr 

 than at Villa d'Este of Tivoli.^ In the spring, by the strai ■ 

 smooth ways under the ilexes and cypresses, all day the gok . : 

 gloom is made rosy where ever and anon red Judas-tr 

 shower down their bloom. Marble stairs lead up through terrac.ii 

 heights to paved walks under the Palazzo walls. There the ; 

 is faint with rich fragrance of the orange-trees. The lofty spir 

 of ancient cypresses reach up above the topmost terrace ; fi 

 below in the garden, between their dark ranks sparkle the u 

 springing fountains. Beyond, above the tallest cypresses, ri 

 brown crumbling walls of the old town, piled up with open logg 

 and arched gates and overshadowing roofs : and high over thes 

 great barren hills crowned with ruined fortresses and shattere 

 keeps. To the west rolls out the ocean of the wide Campagm 

 undulating far away where Rome is lost in the sunset. Dreai 

 on, until you sigh with the wondrous sweetness of Rome herse 

 in the wild wood-garden of the Vatican, where in April days te 

 thousand odorous cyclamen flowers, flush with crimson all tl- 

 moss beneath the trees. Dream on, till you see once more tb-, 

 swaying of the tall pines and bathe your steps in tracts of floweiy 

 grass in the green Pamphili Doria, and watch the mystic fountaii- 

 most like the form of an inconstant spirit, like a pale blue-robe, 

 ^ See Illustration in Appendix. 



