370 



JOURNAL OF THE EOYAL HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre 



Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops 



The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung : 



Which to our general Sire gave prospect large 



Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. 



And higher then that wall a circling row 



Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, 



Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue 



Appeerd, with gay enameled colours mixt : 



On which the Sun more glad impressed his beams 



Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, 



When God hath showrd the earth ; so lovely seemed 



That L&ntskip : And of pore now purer aire 



Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires 



Vernal delight and joy, able to drive 



All sadness but despair : now gentle gales 



Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense 



Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole 



Those balmie spoiles.' 



It is all very grand, or, as the poet says, delicious, and I daresay that 

 terrific Hadrian's villa-wall if verdurous, would not appear so forbidding 

 overtopped with the " circling row 7 of goodliest fruit trees laden with 

 fairest fruit," and the at once intermingled " Blossoms and Fruits of 

 golden hue " with their "mixt enameled colours," viewed in the pure 

 atmosphere, the purity of which enhanced the native perfumes, — " those 

 balmie spoiles " that the winds stole and dispensed. The first part, 

 " the woodie theatres " and " the hairie sides " of the steep wilderness at 

 the top of which is the enclosed green, reads like a condensed description 

 of those steep but prolific mountain sides of Brazilian hill forests, such as 

 abound in that wonderful region of surprises of ruggedness and almost 

 impenetrable amplitude of vegetation near Kio de Janeiro which I only 

 know by picture and description. 



There is in this poetic description of Eden a marvellous profundity 

 which only those who are positively steeped in classic lore can 

 grasp in its largeness of conception, but to the honour of the poet be it 

 said that it is only the very exceptional mortals that can compress and 

 arrange within focus such a wealth of classical, mythological, apo- 

 cryphal and scriptural imagery, subordinating them all to the glorious 

 subject before the poet's mind in ordered poetical design. Such minds 

 find their counterpart in those great ambitious men who conceived those 

 magnificent monumental Italian demesnes (we can scarcely call them 

 gardens), and who made everything, water, foliage, flowers and trees, fall 

 into their desired order, and made even the lines of the landscape fall into 

 classical composition, and into their own preconceived heroic inter- 

 pretation of nature. 



Although I am strangely susceptible to such magnificence and pro- 

 fundity that the Italian gardens weave round spectators, I must confess 

 that my compass, so to speak, always swings round to the homelier 

 quarters, beloved by the true Briton, and the quiet beauty which old 

 England bespeaks. 



r am free to admit that it is possible to have the most impressive 

 spectacle of acres set out in all the wealth that rich flowers can show, 



