“And they say that these beasts be souls of worthy men that resemble in likeness of those beasts that be fair, and therefore they give them meat for the love of God; and the other beasts that be foul, they say be souls of poor men and of rude commons.”
Many other marvels did Sir John see, of which I shall not tell; but he writes always with his eye open and easy for miracles, and talks as a gardener talks of strange flowers and fruit, as of gourds that when they be ripe—“men cut them a-two, and men find within a little beast, in flesh, and bone and blood, as though it were a little lamb without wool. And men eat both the fruit and the beast. And that is a great marvel.” Then he writes of the wonders of the country of Prester John, and of trees there that men dare not eat of the fruit—“for it is a thing of faerie.”
Of Gatholonabes, he writes, and of the sham Garden of Eden he made, and of the birds that—“sing full delectably and moved by craft.” The fairest garden any man might behold it was. And of the men and girls clothed in cloths of gold full richly, that he said were angels.
And of Paradise he cannot speak, making towards the end of the book confession.
“Of Paradise ne can I not speak properly. For I was not there. It is far beyond. And that forthinketh me. And also I was not worthy.”
And so, after a little more, ends Sir John, and so I end, though I love him. Yet I doubt some of his stories.
IX
THE OLYMPIAN ASPECT
There are many ways of regarding a garden of flowers; from the utilitarian view it is a reasonable method of utilising a space of ground for horticultural purposes, but I prefer to take the Olympian view and quote from “The Poet’s Geography,” to the effect that a garden of flowers is—“A collection of dreams surrounded by clouds.”