in the fall: 
    And, when cold winter split the rocks in twain,
    And ice the running rivers did restrain,
    He stripp’d the bear’s foot of its leafy growth,
    And, calling western winds, accus’d the spring of sloth
    He therefore first among the swains was found
    To reap the product of his labour’d ground,
    And squeeze the combs with golden liquor crown’d
    His limes were first in flow’rs, his lofty pines,
    With friendly shade, secur’d his tender vines. 
    For ev’ry bloom his trees in spring afford,
    An autumn apple was by tale restor’d
    He knew to rank his elms in even rows,
    For fruit the grafted pear tree to dispose,
    And tame to plums the sourness of the sloes
    With spreading planes he made a cool retreat,
    To shade good fellows from the summer’s heat

Virgil’s Georgics, Book IV.

An excellent Scottish poet—­Allan Ramsay—­a true and unaffected describer of rural life and scenery—­seems to have had as great a dislike to topiary gardens, and quite as earnest a love of nature, as any of the best Italian poets.  The author of the “Gentle Shepherd” tells us in the following lines what sort of garden most pleased his fancy.

ALLAN RAMSAY’S GARDEN.

I love the garden wild and wide, Where oaks have plum-trees by their side, Where woodbines and the twisting vine Clip round the pear tree and the pine Where mixed jonquils and gowans grow And roses midst rank clover grow Upon a bank of a clear strand, In wrimplings made by Nature’s hand Though docks and brambles here and there May sometimes cheat the gardener’s care, Yet this to me is Paradise, Compared with prim cut plots and nice, Where Nature has to Act resigned, Till all looks mean, stiff and confined.

I cannot say that I should wish to see forest trees and docks and brambles in garden borders.  Honest Allan here runs a little into the extreme, as men are apt enough to do, when they try to get as far as possible from the side advocated by an opposite party.

I shall now exhibit two paintings of bowers.  I begin with one from Spenser.

A BOWER

      And over him Art stryving to compayre
      With Nature did an arber greene dispied[041]
      Framed of wanton yvie, flouring, fayre,
      Through which the fragrant eglantine did spred
      His prickling armes, entrayld with roses red,
      Which daintie odours round about them threw
      And all within with flowers was garnished
      That, when myld Zephyrus emongst them blew,
    Did breathe out bounteous smels, and painted colors shew