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The radiant Sninmer far exceeds the gladsome Spring in 
her garden beauties; some few of them—alas ! that they arc 
few—we must gossip about presently: meanwhile we cannot do 
better than read, and at the same time/ancy, this very fanciful 
description of Fanglorie’s Garden, by Giles Fletcher; 1610. 
The garden like a ladie faire was cut, 
That lay as if she slumbered in delight, 
And to the open skies her eyes did shut. 
The azure fields of heaven were ’sembled right 
In a large round, set with the flowers of light: 
The flow’rs de luce, and the round sparks of dew, 
Tliat hung upon their azure leaves, did show 
Like twinkling starrs, that sparkle in the evening blew. 
Upon a hillie bank her head she cast, 
On which the bowre of Vain-delight was built. 
White and red roses for her face wear plac’t. 
And for her tresses marigolds were spilt : 
Them broadly she displaied, lilie flaming guilt. 
Till in the ocean the glad day wear drowned; 
Then up again her yellow locks she wound. 
And with greene fillets in their prettie cauls them bound. 
Why should I here depeint her lillie-hand. 
Her veines of violets, her ermine brest, 
Which there in orient colours living stand ; 
Or how her gowne with silken leaves is drest. 
Or how her watchman, armed with boughie crest, 
A wall of prim hid in his bushes bears. 
Shaking at every winde their leavie spears. 
While she supinely sleeps; ne to be waked fears ? 
The sculptor of old proposed to make a statue of Mount 
Athos: this landscape-gardening Poet, spreading his sleeping 
