The eye could not pierce beyond them, and the
imagination was in a manner embosomed in the vale. There were the
quivering alder, the upright fir, and the venerable oak crowned with
sacred mistletoe. They grew upon a natural declivity that descended
every way towards the plain. The deep green of the larger trees was
fringed towards the bottom with the pleasing paleness of the willow.
From one of the groves a little rivulet glided across the plain, and was
intersected on one side by a stream that flowed into it from a point
equally distant from either extremity of its course. Both these streams
were bordered with willows. In a word, upon the face of this beautiful
spot all appeared tranquility and peace. It was without a path, and you
would imagine that no human footsteps had ever invaded the calmness of
its solitude. It was the eternal retreat of the venerable anchorite; it
was the uninhabited paradise in the midst of the trackless ocean.
Such was the spot where the shepherds and shepherdesses of a hundred
cots were now assembled. In the larger compartiments of the vale, the
more muscular and vigorous swains pursued the flying ball, or contended
in the swift-footed race. The bards, venerable for their age and the
snowy whiteness of their hair, sat upon a little eminence as umpires of
the sports.
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