There the cherry and the grape, the downy peach and the purple
plum were half discovered amid the foliage of the hop, and the clusters
of the woodbine. Beneath the delicious shade you wandered over beds of
moss, undeformed with barren sands and intrusive weeds, and smooth as
the level face of ocean when all the winds of heaven sleep.
Nor was this all. Inanimate and vegetable nature (and the observation
had not escaped the penetration of Rodogune) adorn and arrange it as you
will, infallibly suggests an idea of solitude, that communicates sadness
to the mind. Accordingly your path was here beguiled with the warbling
of a thousand birds, the full-toned blackbird, the mellow thrush, and
the pensive nightingale. The sorceress had invited them to her retreat,
by innumerable assiduities and innumerable conveniences of food and
residence, and had suffered no rude intrusion to disturb the sacredness
of their haunts. Unused to molestation in all their pursuits, they now
showed no terror of human approach, but flew, and hopped, and sung, and
played among the branches and along the ground, in thoughtless security
and wanton defiance.
For a few moments Imogen was immersed in the contemplation of the
beauties of the place, and its delightful coolness and mingled fragrance
were balm and softness to her wounded soul.
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