120 NOTES. 



to the absurdity of the garden, which they are supposed 

 to keep up in remembrance of Shakspeare. I chanced 

 to visit it a summer or two ago, and, instead of find- 

 ing an Elizabethan garden with flowers associated 

 with Shakspeare and his times, I saw little but a 

 wretched ribbon border of starveling Calceolarias, scrubby 

 Pelargoniums, and miserable Perillas. Such a garden 

 is a mockery, and would be more suggestive and more 

 pathetic if left wild to the growths of nature. 



If Milton enjoyed more completely the luxury of 

 gardens, it is safe to say that he knew less of separate 

 flowers than Shakspeare. He not only speaks of the 

 Eglantine as " twisted," but he calls the Cowslip " wan," 

 the Violet " glowing," and the Reed "balmy." He 

 makes Roses and Crocuses bloom together in Paradise, 

 and Hyacinths and Roses in the gardens of Hesperus, 

 while Lycid's " laureate hearse" is to be strewn with Prim- 

 rose and Woodbine, Daffodil and Jessamine. Paradise 

 and the gardens of Hesperus are, of course, ideal 

 gardens, which may be superior to our times and seasons, 

 but the same excuse cannot hold good for the flowers of 

 the "Lycidas," and it is tolerably clear that Milton's 

 special knowledge was somewhat vague. But, on the 

 other hand, what a sensuous pleasure he has in gardens ! 

 He is not thinking of Elizabethan gardens, but such 

 gardens as he may have seen in Italy, or read of in 

 Tasso or Boccaccio. The west winds fling around the 

 cedared alleys sweet smells of Nard and Cassia, or the 

 covert is of inwoven shade of Laurel and Myrtle fenced 

 by Acanthus and odorous shrubs. The rich rhythm of 

 his lines seems to breathe perfume and delight. 



And the reason why, in later years at least, the scent 



