KINGS IN GARDENS 



behind the melancholy sweet grace or olives 

 shows with the blue sky caught, it seems, in the 

 intricate tracery of their boughs. 



Now, as we watch, comes the genius of this 

 garden, Giorgione's poet come to life. That 

 figure from the Fetes Champetres is all Romance. 

 He carries his lute slung behind him as he walks 

 down the steps ; he twirls a carnation between 

 his fingers ; his hair is long and bushes out over 

 his ears, and the sun makes fine play on his 

 crimson sleeves. In a moment he is lost in the 

 shadows of an orange grove. 



With this figure comes all the memory of 

 those great Italian gardens, the gardens of the 

 D'Estes, of the Borghesi, of the villa of Cardinal 

 Aldobrandi. 



" This is indeed Italy," I say to the king. 

 And he replies in the way of a man heavy with 

 dreams of ancient things. " In this garden we 

 could find that aviary the D'Estes built where 

 artificial birds sang until an owl appeared, on 

 which they suddenly change their notes. And 

 there will be somewhere a great fountain of 

 Dragons casting out streams of water with tre- 

 mendous noises. What dreams sleep in gardens ! 

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