That we in lingering shall such pleasure take.”
Nor had we forward far advanced our tread,
When I perceived that on the mountain-side
A valley opened, just like valleys here.
“We will go forward,” said our shadowy guide,
“Where on the slope yon hollow doth appear;
There let us wait the dawning of the day.”
‘Twixt steep and level went a winding path
Which led us where the vale-side dies away
Till less than half its height the margin hath.
Gold and fine silver, ceruse, cochineal,
India’s rich wood, heaven’s lucid blue serene,[15]
Or glow that emeralds freshly broke reveal,
Had all been vanquished by the varied sheen
Of this bright valley set with shrubs and flowers,
As less by greater. Nor had Nature there
Only in painting spent herself, but showers
Of odors manifold made sweet the air
With one strange mingling of confused perfume.
And there new spirits chanting I descried—