|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 67
The Moors redoubled their assault upon the portal; the gates gave way,
with a tremendous crash; a savage yell of exultation arose; when of a
sudden the earth yawned; down sank the convent, with its cloisters, its
dormitories, and all its nuns. The chapel tower was the last that sank,
the bell ringing forth a peal of triumph in the very teeth of the
infidels.
* * * * *
Forty years had passed and gone, since the period of this miracle. The
subjugation of Spain was complete. The Moors lorded it over city and
country; and such of the Christian population as remained, and were
permitted to exercise their religion, did it in humble resignation to
the Moslem sway.
At this time, a Christian cavalier, of Cordova, hearing that a patriotic
band of his countrymen had raised the standard of the cross in the
mountains of the Asturias, resolved to join them, and unite in breaking
the yoke of bondage. Secretly arming himself, and caparisoning his
steed, he set forth from Cordova, and pursued his course by unfrequented
mule-paths, and along the dry channels made by winter torrents. His
spirit burned with indignation, whenever, on commanding a view over a
long sweeping plain, he beheld the mosque swelling in the distance, and
the Arab horsemen careering about, as if the rightful lords of the soil.
Many a deep-drawn sigh, and heavy groan, also, did the good cavalier
utter, on passing the ruins of churches and convents desolated by the
conquerors.
It was on a sultry midsummer evening, that this wandering cavalier, in
skirting a hill thickly covered with forest, heard the faint tones of a
vesper bell sounding melodiously in the air, and seeming to come from
the summit of the hill. The cavalier crossed himself with wonder, at
this unwonted and Christian sound. He supposed it to proceed from one
of those humble chapels and hermitages permitted to exist through the
indulgence of the Moslem conquerors. Turning his steed up a narrow
path of the forest, he sought this sanctuary, in hopes of finding a
hospitable shelter for the night. As he advanced, the trees threw a deep
gloom around him, and the bat flitted across his path. The bell ceased
to toll, and all was silence.
Presently a choir of female voices came stealing sweetly through the
forest, chanting the evening service, to the solemn accompaniment of
an organ. The heart of the good cavalier melted at the sound, for it
recalled the happier days of his country. Urging forward his weary
steed, he at length arrived at a broad grassy area, on the summit of the
hill, surrounded by the forest. Here the melodious voices rose in full
chorus, like the swelling of the breeze; but whence they came, he could
not tell. Sometimes they were before, sometimes behind him; sometimes in
the air, sometimes as if from within the bosom of the earth. At length
they died away, and a holy stillness settled on the place.
The cavalier gazed around with bewildered eye. There was neither chapel
nor convent, nor humble hermitage, to be seen; nothing but a moss-grown
stone pinnacle, rising out of the centre of the area, surmounted by a
cross. The greensward around appeared to have been sacred from the tread
of man or beast, and the surrounding trees bent toward the cross, as if
in adoration.
The cavalier felt a sensation of holy awe. He alighted and tethered
his steed on the skirts of the forest, where he might crop the tender
herbage; then approaching the cross, he knelt and poured forth his
evening prayers before this relique of the Christian days of Spain.
His orisons being concluded, he laid himself down at the foot of the
pinnacle, and reclining his head against one of its stones, fell into a
deep sleep.
About midnight, he was awakened by the tolling of a bell, and found
himself lying before the gate of an ancient convent. A train of nuns
passed by, each bearing a taper. The cavalier rose and followed them
into the chapel; in the centre of which was a bier, on which lay the
corpse of an aged nun. The organ performed a solemn requiem: the nuns
joining in chorus. When the funeral service was finished, a melodious
voice chanted, "_Requiescat in pace!_"--"May she rest in peace!" The
lights immediately vanished; the whole passed away as a dream; and the
cavalier found himself at the foot of the cross, and beheld, by the
faint rays of the rising moon, his steed quietly grazing near him.
When the day dawned, the cavalier descended the hill, and following the
course of a small brook, came to a cave, at the entrance of which was
seated an ancient man, clad in hermit's garb, with rosary and cross,
and a beard that descended to his girdle. He was one of those holy
anchorites permitted by the Moors to live unmolested in dens and caves,
and humble hermitages, and even to practise the rites of their religion.
The cavalier checked his horse, and dismounting, knelt and craved a
benediction. He then related all that had befallen him in the night, and
besought the hermit to explain the mystery.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|