A tour through the Pyrenees . ar country, and they spring to lifeagain here in ourselves, with the sentiments whichgave birth to them. I imagine idle and curious herdsmen, of freshand infantile souls, not yet possessed by the au-thority of a neighboring civilization and an estab-lished dogma, but active, hardy, and poets bynature. The)^ dream—and of Mhat, if not of thehuge beings that all day long besiege their eyes ?How fantastical are those jagged heads, thosebruised and heaped-up bodies, those twistedshoulders ! What unknown monsters, what mel-anchol), misshapen race, alien to humanity ! By
A tour through the Pyrenees . ar country, and they spring to lifeagain here in ourselves, with the sentiments whichgave birth to them. I imagine idle and curious herdsmen, of freshand infantile souls, not yet possessed by the au-thority of a neighboring civilization and an estab-lished dogma, but active, hardy, and poets bynature. The)^ dream—and of Mhat, if not of thehuge beings that all day long besiege their eyes ?How fantastical are those jagged heads, thosebruised and heaped-up bodies, those twistedshoulders ! What unknown monsters, what mel-anchol), misshapen race, alien to humanity ! Bywhat dread travail has the earth brought themforth from her womb, and what contests havetheir blasted heads sustained amidst clouds andthunderbolts! They still threaten to-day; theeagles and the vultures are alone welcome to soundtheir depths. They love not man ; their bowlderslie in wait to roll upon him, so soon as he shallviolate their solitudes. With a shiver they hurlupon his harvests a tide of rocks ; they have but to. Chap. V. EAUX-CHAUDES. 179 gather up a storm in order to drown him Hke anant. How changeable is their face, but always tobe dreaded! What lightnings their summits hurlamong the creeping fogs ! That flash causes fearlike the eye of some tyrant god, seen for a mo-ment, then hid again. There are mountains thatweep, amidst their gloomy bogs, and their tearstrickle down their aged cheeks with a hollow sob,betwixt pines that rustle and whisper sorrowfully,as if pitying that eternal mourning. Others, seat-ed in a ring, bathe their feet in lakes the color ofsteel, and which no wind ever ruffles; they arehappy in such calm, and gaze into the virgin waveat their silver helmet. How mysterious are they atnight, and what evil thoughts do they turn over inwmter, when wrapped in their shroud of snow!But in the broad day and in summer, with what buoy-ancy and how glorified rises their forehead to thesublimest heights of air, into pure and radiantrealms, into light, to th
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