In this ancient garden of stone, it seems to be perpetual night. Here the forgotten names of a deceased line are etched into rock faces. And who are these restless forms, drifting among the cobblestones? .   Greetings, weary one. I am the keeper of this place, a guardian if you will. Long ago I was a member of the great House who dwelled here, now I spend my time here among the dreamers of yesterday. You may come, rest for awhile among us, remember us. .. . . HIC IACET ARTHURUS, REX QUONDAM, REXQUE FUTURUS Here lies Arthur, who was king and king will be again . . Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all. . . Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbare To dig the dust enclosed here. Blest be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones. . . Cast a cold eye On life, on death Horseman, pass by!