The Road Was Now
Down A Rapid And Crooked Descent, Which Terminated In A Valley, At
The Bottom Of Which Was A Long And Narrow Bridge; Beneath It Rolled
A River, Descending From A Wide Pass Between Two Mountains, For The
Chain Was Here Cleft, Probably By Some Convulsion Of Nature.
I
looked up the pass, and on the hills on both sides.
Far above, on
my right, but standing forth bold and clear, and catching the last
rays of the sun, was the Convent of the Precipices, whilst directly
over against it, on the farther side of the valley, rose the
perpendicular side of the rival hill, which, to a considerable
extent intercepting the light, flung its black shadow over the
upper end of the pass, involving it in mysterious darkness.
Emerging from the centre of this gloom, with thundering sound,
dashed a river, white with foam, and bearing along with it huge
stones and branches of trees, for it was the wild Sil hurrying to
the ocean from its cradle in the heart of the Asturian hills, and
probably swollen by the recent rains.
Hours again passed away. It was now night, and we were in the
midst of woodlands, feeling our way, for the darkness was so great
that I could scarcely see the length of a yard before my horse's
head. The animal seemed uneasy, and would frequently stop short,
prick up his ears, and utter a low mournful whine. Flashes of
sheet lightning frequently illumined the black sky, and flung a
momentary glare over our path.
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