Writings (V. 18) (Paperback) ~ George Eliot (Author) Cover Art

Writings (v. 18) (Paperback)

By: George Eliot (Author)



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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: BOOK III Quit now the town, and with a journeying dream Swift as the wings of sound yet seeming slow Through multitudinous pulsing of stored sense And spiritual space, see walls and towers Lie in the silent whiteness of a trance, Giving no sign of that warm life within That moves and murmurs through their hidden heart. Pass o''er the mountain, wind in sombre shade, Then wind into the light and see the town Shrunk to white crust upon the darker rock. Turn east and south, descend, then rise anew ''Mid smaller mountains ebbing towards the plain: Scent the fresh breath of the height-loving herbs That, trodden by the pretty parted hoofs Of nimble goats, sigh at the innocent bruise, And with a mingled difference exquisite Pour a sweet burthen on the buoyant air. Pause now and be all ear. Far from the south, Seeking the listening silence of the heights, Comes a slow-dying sound —the Moslems'' call To prayer in afternoon. Bright in the sun Like tall white sails on a green shadowy sea Stand Moorish watch-towers: ''neath that eastern sky Couches unseen the strength of Moorish Baza; Where the meridian bends lies Guadix, hold Of brave El Zagal. This is Moorish land, Where Allah lives unconquered in dark breasts And blesses still the many-nourishing earth With dark-armed industry. See from the steep The scattered olives hurry in grey throngs Down towards the valley, where the little stream Parts a green hollow ''twixt the gentler slopes; And in that hollow, dwellings: not white homes Of building Moors, but little swarthy tents Such as of old perhaps on Asian plains, Or wending westward past the Caucasus, Our fathers raised to rest in. Close they swarm About two taller tents, and viewed afar Might seem a dark-robed crowd in penitence That silent kneel; but come now in their midst And watch a ...



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