IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



Was opened; tract more exquisitely fair 

 Than that famed paradise of ten thousand trees, 

 Or Gehol's matchless gardens, for delight 

 Of the Tartarian dynasty compared 

 (Beyond that mighty wall, not fabulous, 

 China's stupendous mound) by patient toil 

 Of myriads and boon nature's lavish help; 

 There, in a clime from widest empire chosen, 

 Fulfilling (could enchantment have done more?) 

 A sumptuous dream of flowery lawns, with domes 

 Of pleasure sprinkled over, shady dells 

 For eastern monasteries, sunny mounts 

 With temples erected, bridges, gondolas, 

 Rocks, dens, and groves of foliage taught to melt 

 Into each other their obsequious hues, 

 Vanished and vanishing in subtle chase, 

 Too fine to be pursued ; or standing forth 

 In no discordant opposition, strong 

 And gorgeous as the colours side by side 

 Bedded among rich plumes of tropic birds; 

 And mountains over all, embracing all; 

 And all the landscape, endlessly enriched 

 With waters running, falling, or asleep. 

 WILLIAM WADSWORTH. 

 The Prelude, Book VIII, Retrospect. 



[52] 



