136 A GARDEN DIARY 



particular passage, which I failed to do, a fact 

 hardly to be wondered at, since, as it turned out, 

 there was no copy of The Garden of Cyrus 

 in the house. I have found it however, at last, 

 safely hidden, like a sprig of myrtle, in the tight 

 embrace of an ancient notebook. 



" But the quincunx of heaven runs low, and 

 'tis time to close the first parts of knowledge. 

 We are unwilling to spin out our awaking 

 thoughts into the phantasms of sleep, which 

 often continueth precogitations, making cables, 

 and cobwebs, and wildernesses of handsome 

 graves. Beside Hippocrates hath spoke so 

 little, and the oneirocritical (!) masters have left 

 such frigid interpretations from plants, that there 

 is little encouragement to dream of Paradise 

 itself. Nor will the sweetest delights of gardens 

 afford much comfort in sleep ; wherein the dull- 

 ness of that sense shakes hands with delectable 

 odours ; and, though in the bed of Cleopatra, 

 can hardly with any delight raise up the ghost 

 of a rose. 



" Night, which Pagan theology could make 

 the daughter of Chaos, affords no advantage to 

 the description of order, although no lower than 

 that mass can we derive its genealogy. All 

 things began in order, so shall they end, and so 

 shall they begin again ; according to the Ordainer 

 of order, and of the mystical mathematicks of 

 the city of heaven. 



