all the wildness of the western Highlands, with the
verdure of the south of France." (Letter to Mrs.
Byron, 1809). Seven years ago it was my fortune to
visit " Cintra's glorious Eden," which is among the
finest parks of landscape gardening in the world.
The horrid crags by toppling convent crown'd,
The cork trees' hoar that clothe the shaggy steep, The mountain-moss by scorching skies unbrown'd, The sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must weep, The tender azure of the unruffled deep, The orange tints that gild the greenest bough,
The torrents that from cliff to valley leap, The vine on high, the willow branch below, Mix'd in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow.
We had a good game of cricket this afternoon, in which I nearly performed " the hat trick." Three balls were sent into Davy Jones's locker.
After dinner I amused myself with watching ships approach Cape St. Vincent. The lighthousea which gives a triple flashlightastands alongside of a monastery on a high and steep cliff, whose heights, it is said novices must scale before they are eligible for the monastery. On this glorious moonlight night there is scarcely a ripple on the sea, and the very gentlest of balmy breezes, fragrant with pine aroma, is blowing. " It makes one glad to be alive a night like this," remarks the skipper, and certainly it is at such times that one gets possessed with
That blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world is lighten'd.
As we rounded the corner the captain told me thatAs we rounded the corner the captain told me that