THE VALLEY OF ENCHANTMENT.
Thus refreshed, we set to work boldly, and, by dint of hard climbing,
reached the top of the cliff. It was the highest point on the island
next to the Peak of Yonka. We looked over the edge and down into a
lovely valley covered with grass. Wooded ravines sloped into it on every
side, and streams wound through it hedged with bushes, and all around us
the air was filled with a sweet scent of wild flowers. In that secluded
valley, so seldom trodden by the foot of man, we saw how much of beauty
lay yet unrevealed upon earth; and our souls were filled with an abiding
happiness: for time might dim the mortal eye; the freshness of youth
might pass away; all the bright promises of life might leave us in the
future; but there was a resting-place there for the memory; an
impression, made by the Divine hand within, that could never fade; a
glimpse in our earthly pilgrimage of that promised land where there is
harmony without end--beauty without blemish--joy beyond all that man
hath conceived.
[Illustration: THE VALLEY.]
Nothing was here of that stern and inhospitable character that marked
the rock-bound shores of the island. A soft haze hung over the valley;
a happy quiet reigned in the perfumed air; the breath of heaven touched
gently the flowers that bloomed upon the sod; all was fresh and fair,
and full of romantic beauty. Yet there was life in the repose; abundance
within the maze of heights that encircled the dreamy solitude. Fields of
wild oats waved with changing colors on the hill-sides; green meadows
swept around the bases of the mountains; rich and fragrant shrubs
bloomed wherever we looked; fair flowers and running vines hung over the
brows of the rocks, crowning them as with a garland; and springs burst
out from the cool earth and fell in white mist down into the groves of
myrtle below, and were lost in the shade. Nowhere was there a trace of
man's intrusion. Wild horses, snuffing the air, dashed out into the
valley in all the joyousness of their freedom, flinging back their manes
and tossing their heads proudly; and when they beheld us, they started
suddenly, and fled up the mountains beyond. Herds of goats ran along the
rugged declivities below us, looking scarcely bigger than rabbits; and
birds of bright and beautiful plumage flew close around our heads, and
lit upon the trees. It was a fair scene, untouched by profaning hands;
fair and solitary, and lovely in its solitude as the happy valley of
Rasselas.