"
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_.
The next morning early a numerous party issued from the eastern gate
of Elvas. The descending road led them between groves of olives, whose
sad colored foliage was relieved by the bright hues of the almond
tree, clothed with pink blossoms, the scarlet flowering pomegranate,
the dark, rich green of the orange-tree, already spangled over with
small white blossoms, yet still laden with its golden fruit, and the
prune trees of Elvas, favorites through the world, leafless as yet,
but conspicuous by the clouds of white flowerets which covered them.
The roofs of the suburban quintas showed themselves here and there
above the orchards, and by the roadside the _iris alata_ bloomed on
every bank.
The air is balmy, the scene lovely, and all nature smiling with the
sweet promises of Spring. Is this the goddess Flora leading down a
joyous train to the fields below? It is only Lady Mabel cantering
somewhat recklessly down hill. When she reached the more level ground,
she so far out-rode the ladies of her party, who were mounted on
mules, that, tired of loitering for them to come up, she proposed to
L'Isle, who had kept by her side, to employ their leisure in ascending
the bare hill on their left, to examine the old tower, that stood
solitary and conspicuous on its top.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315