File:A tour through the Pyrenees (1875) (14753263046).jpg

Identifier: tourthroughpyren00tain (find matches)
Title: A tour through the Pyrenees
Year: 1875 (1870s)
Authors: Taine, Hippolyte, 1828-1893 Fiske, John Safford, 1838-1907, (from old catalog) tr Dore, Gustave, 1832-1883, (from old catalog) illus
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Publisher: New York, H. Holt and company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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ery road seems beautiful to me. What anair of resignation in those old elms. They budand spread forth in branches, from head to foot,they have such a desire for life, even under thisdust. Then come lustrous plane trees, tossingtheir beautiful and regular leaves. White bind-weed, blue campanulas, hang at the edge of theditches. Is it not strange that these pretty crea-tures remain so solitary, that they should be fatedto die to-morrow, that they should scarcely havelooked upon us an instant; that their beautyshould have flourished only for its two seconds ofadmiration ? They too have their world, thispeople of high grasses bending over on them-selves ; these lizards which wave the thicket of theherbs ; these gilded wasps that hum in their chal-ices. This world here is well worth ours, and Ifind them happy in opening thus, then in closingtheir pale eyes to the peaceful whisper of thewind. The road, as far as the eye can reach, curvesand lifts anew its white girdle around the hills; this
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Chap. I. DAX.—ORTHEZ. 83 sinuous movement Is of infinite sweetness; thelong riband tightens to their figure their veil offair harvests or their robe of green meadows.These slopes and roundnesses are as expressive ashuman forms; but how much more varied, howmuch stranger and richer in attitudes ? Thosethere on the horizon, almost hid behind a troop ofothers, smile dimly in their timidness, under theircrown of vapory gauze ; they form a round on thebrink of heaven, a fleeting round that the least dis-turbance of the air would put out of sight, andwhich yet regards with tenderness the fretted crea-tures lost in its bosom. Others, their neighbors,rudely dint the soil with their haunches and theirbrown slopes; the human structure here halfpeeps forth, then disappears under the mineral bar-barism ; here are the children of another age, everpowerful, severe still, unknown and antique races,whose mysterious history the mind searches with-out willing it. Tawny moors filled with herdsmount up

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