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This is an OCR edition with typos.
Excerpt from book:
XVI. Meantime Pelayo up the vale pursued Eastward his way, before the sun had climbed Auseva's brow, or shed his silvering beams Upon Europa's summit, where the snows Through all revolving seasons hold their seat. A happy man he went, his heart at rest, Of hope and virtue and affection full, To all exhilarating influences Of earth and heaven alive. With kindred joy He heard the lark, who from her airy height, On twinkling pinions poised, poured forth profuse, In thrilling sequence of exuberant song, As one whose joyous nature overflowed With life and power, her rich and rapturous strain. The early bee, buzzing along the way, From flower to flower, bore gladness on her wing To his rejoicing sense; and he pursued, With quickened eye alert, the frolic hare, Where from the green herb in her wanton path She brushed away the dews. For he long time, Far from his home and from his native hills, Had dwelt in bondage; and the mountain breeze, Which he had with the breath of infancy Inhaled, such impulse to his heart restored, As if the seasons had rolled back, and life Enjoyed a second spring. Through fertile fields He went, by cots with pear-trees overbowered, Or spreading to the sun their trelliced vines; Through orchards now, and now by thymy banks, Where wooden hives in some warm nook were hid From wind and shower; and now thro' shadowy paths, Where hazels fringed Pionia's vocal stream; Tiir where the loftier hills to narrower bound Confine the vale, he reached those huts remote Which shouldhereafter to the noble line Of Soto origin and name impart: A gallant lineage, long in fields of war And faithful chronicler's enduring page Blazoned; but most by him illustrated, Avid of gold, yet greedier of renown, Whom not the s...