Spain . e and peace! The plain watered by the gentle Genii. said I, ^ ismore flowery, the life of the lovely Granada is moredear. And I murmured these words as one discon-solate, and, remembering the house of my fathers,I raised my sad eyes to heaven. What is thy magic, what thy unspeakable spell, 0 fatherland ! O sweet name ! that thou art so dear ?The swarthy African, far from his native desert,looks with sad disdain on fields of green; the rudeLaplander, stolen from his mother-earth, sighs forperpetual night and snow; and I—I, to whom akindly fate granted birth and nurture in thy bosomblest
Spain . e and peace! The plain watered by the gentle Genii. said I, ^ ismore flowery, the life of the lovely Granada is moredear. And I murmured these words as one discon-solate, and, remembering the house of my fathers,I raised my sad eyes to heaven. What is thy magic, what thy unspeakable spell, 0 fatherland ! O sweet name ! that thou art so dear ?The swarthy African, far from his native desert,looks with sad disdain on fields of green; the rudeLaplander, stolen from his mother-earth, sighs forperpetual night and snow; and I—I, to whom akindly fate granted birth and nurture in thy bosomblest by so many gifts of God—though far from thee,could I forget thee, Granada ? When I reached Granada it was quite dark, and 1 could not see so much as the outlines of a diligence drawn by two horses, ... anzi due cavallette Di quella de Mose la dell Egitto, landed me at a hotel, where I was kept waiting anhour while my bed was being made, and finally, just Tower of the S^ifen Floors, GRANADA. 187 before three oclock in the morning, I was at lastable to lay my head on the pillow. But my troubleswere not over: just as I was falling into a doze Iheard an indistinct murmur in the next room, andthen a masculme voice which said distinctly, Oh,what a little foot! You who have bowels of com-passion, pity me. The pillow was torn a little; Ipulled out two tufts of wool, stuffed them in myears; and, rehearsing in thought the misfortunesof my journey, I slept the sleep of the just. In the morning I went out betimes and walkedabout through the streets of Granada until it was adecent hour to go and drag from his home a younggentleman of Granada whom I had met at Madridat the house of Fernandez Guerra, Gongora byname, the son of a distinguished archeologist and adescendant of the famous Cordovan poet Luigi Gon-gora, of whom I spoke in passing. That part ofthe city which I saw in those few hours did not fulfilmy expectation. I had expected to find narrowmysterious streets
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1895
