THE FLOWER GARDEN OF THE POETS. 
559 
on the slope of the mountain, in the hollow of 
the valley, in the rays of the sun, and in the 
secluded shade of the forest. The men whose 
imaginations were so vast that no subject, 
however insignificant or majestic, was beyond 
the circle of their capacity, whose thoughts 
could range over the w^hole face of creation, 
and settle upoa the highest pinnacles of wis- 
dom, as well as upon the lowliest flower of 
the valley ; these men loved to sit amid the 
sweetness of a garden, and to weave from the 
glittering beauties there displayed, an endless 
succession of the clioicest garlands of thought. 
Milton was an eminent example. He loved 
to picture the convulsions of the universe, the 
wars of heaven, and the most terrible aspects 
of hell ; but he also delighted in the descrip- 
tion of flowers, and places made sweet by 
their presence. From them Paradise derived 
one of its chief attractions. Whether he 
would create the idea of happiness, innocence, 
love, pleasure, or beauty, some simple flower is 
ready to be invested with the thought, and in 
the thornless rose of Eden we discover the 
emblem of that peace and harmony which 
has, in the mind of the poet, constituted the 
most perfect bliss. 
We will suppose Milton sitting in that 
magnificent garden, where tlie first parents of 
the human race enjoyed their short-lived hap- 
piness, where " flowers worthy of Paradise" 
were sprinkled over the ground, not in artistic 
order, but scattered in rich plenty over hill 
and dale, and plain, presenting to the eye the 
variously- coloured expanse, where 
" The flowery lap 
Of some irriguous valley spread her store ; 
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose." 
In one direction, as we learn from Eve, 
when she urges her husband to divide the 
pleasant labours of Paradise, the poet beheld 
" A spring of roses intermixed with myrtle." 
And again, in another spot, the roses budded 
so thick about, that Adam could scarcely dis- 
cern the outline of the woman's form as she 
stood tending the flowers that bloomed so luxu- 
riantly around the palmy hillocks — 
" Oft stooping to support 
Each flowery tender stalk, whose head though gay 
Carnation, purple, azure, or specked with gold, 
Hung drooping unsustained ; them she upstays 
Gently with myrtle-band." 
There never was, we believe, a poem of 
any length in which the rose did not supply 
a simile on the subject of a glowing and en- 
thusiastic description. From Homer's time 
to the present this has been the case. 
! " The blind old man of Ohio's rocky isle" 
describes 
" The rosy finger'd morn" 
as parting the roseate curtains of the day. 
" The rosy bosomed hours," 
described in Comus, forms a favourite quota- 
tion. Milton places it almost first among 
flowers, and in his song commencing 
" Sabrina fair, 
Listen where thou art sitting 
Under the glassy, cool translucent wave, 
In twisting braids of lilies, knitting 
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair," 
he entreats the goddess of the silver lake to 
rise and 
" Heave her rosy head" 
from out the depths of the stream. The 
sleeping-courh of young Adonis is formed of 
hyacinths and roses, and to the silver-buskined 
nymphs, whose presence haunts the forests of 
Arcady, he addresses the line, 
" And ye, the breathing roses of the wood." 
So that in the rose Milton saw the highest 
perfection of loveliness. From it he created 
the most delicate ideas, and where nature 
spread it profusely over the landscape, there 
he imagined the very spirit of beauty to 
linger. But his fondness for this flower did 
not prevent him from indulging in the most 
luxurious thoughts, where other of those 
sweet ornaments displayed themselves before 
his mind's eye. The repose of Adam and 
Eve is rendered more delicious by the fact 
that 
" Flowers were the couch, 
Pansies and violets, and asphodel. 
And hyacinth, earth's freshest, softest lap." 
It is not only in his longer poems that 
Milton pays tribute to the beauty of the flower- 
garden. Scattered throughout all his other 
works we find the evidence of that taste 
which was in him almost a passion, if dilat- 
ing on the richness of those treasures to be 
found in the stores of nature. We find him, 
as it were, sitting 
" By slow Meander's margent stream. 
And in the violet-embroidered dale," 
listening to the voice of Echo, " the queen of 
parley." 
Again, we encounter him 
" Upon a bank 
With ivj canopied, and interwove 
With flaunting honeysuckle." 
Milton must have studied with much atten- 
tion the science of flowers, for he speaks of 
them not only with the enthusiastic raptures 
of the admiring poet, but also with the ease 
and knowledge of the amateur. He knew 
their seasons, and could tell the time of their 
