The Mysteries of Udolpho

In truth he was a strange and wayward wight,

Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene,

In darkness, and in storm he found delight;

Nor less than when on ocean-wave serene

The southern sun diffus'd his dazzling sheen.

Even sad vicissitude amus'd his soul;

And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,

And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,

A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wish'd not to controul.

THE MINSTREL

St. Aubert awoke at an early hour, refreshed by sleep, and desirous to

set forward. He invited the stranger to breakfast with him; and, talking

again of the road, Valancourt said, that, some months past, he had

travelled as far as Beaujeu, which was a town of some consequence on the

way to Rousillon. He recommended it to St. Aubert to take that route,

and the latter determined to do so.

'The road from this hamlet,' said Valancourt, 'and that to Beaujeu, part

at the distance of about a league and a half from hence; if you will

give me leave, I will direct your muleteer so far. I must wander

somewhere, and your company would make this a pleasanter ramble than any

other I could take.' St. Aubert thankfully accepted his offer, and they set out together, the

young stranger on foot, for he refused the invitation of St. Aubert to

take a seat in his little carriage.

The road wound along the feet of the mountains through a pastoral

valley, bright with verdure, and varied with groves of dwarf oak,

beech and sycamore, under whose branches herds of cattle reposed. The

mountain-ash too, and the weeping birch, often threw their pendant

foliage over the steeps above, where the scanty soil scarcely concealed

their roots, and where their light branches waved to every breeze that

fluttered from the mountains.

The travellers were frequently met at this early hour, for the sun had

not yet risen upon the valley, by shepherds driving immense flocks from

their folds to feed upon the hills. St. Aubert had set out thus early,

not only that he might enjoy the first appearance of sunrise, but that

he might inhale the first pure breath of morning, which above all things

is refreshing to the spirits of the invalid. In these regions it was

particularly so, where an abundance of wild flowers and aromatic herbs

breathed forth their essence on the air.

The dawn, which softened the scenery with its peculiar grey tint, now

dispersed, and Emily watched the progress of the day, first trembling on

the tops of the highest cliffs, then touching them with splendid light,

while their sides and the vale below were still wrapt in dewy mist.

Meanwhile, the sullen grey of the eastern clouds began to blush, then to

redden, and then to glow with a thousand colours, till the golden light

darted over all the air, touched the lower points of the mountain's

brow, and glanced in long sloping beams upon the valley and its stream.

All nature seemed to have awakened from death into life; the spirit of

St. Aubert was renovated. His heart was full; he wept, and his thoughts

ascended to the Great Creator.