And through this wilderness
there tumbles a loud rushing stream, which is halted at last in the
lowest corner of the garden, and there tossed up in a fountain by
the side of the simple alcove. This is all.
Never for an instant will the people of Damascus attempt to
separate the idea of bliss from these wild gardens and rushing
waters. Even where your best affections are concerned, and you,
prudent preachers, "hold hard" and turn aside when they come near
the mysteries of the happy state, and we (prudent preachers too),
we will hush our voices, and never reveal to finite beings the joys
of the "earthly paradise."
CHAPTER XXVIII--PASS OF THE LEBANON
"The ruins of Baalbec!" Shall I scatter the vague, solemn thoughts
and all the airy phantasies which gather together when once those
words are spoken, that I may give you instead tall columns and
measurements true, and phrases built with ink? No, no; the
glorious sounds shall still float on as of yore, and still hold
fast upon your brain with their own dim and infinite meaning.
Come! Baalbec is over; I got "rather well" out of that.
The path by which I crossed the Lebanon is like, I think, in its
features to one which you must know, namely, that of the Foorca in
the Bernese Oberland.
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