George Lippard

The Mysteries of Florence George Lippard

From the clear azure of the summer sky, the mid-day sun shone over the lofty battlements and massive towers of an ancient castle, which, rising amid the heights of a precipitous rock, lay basking in the warm atmosphere; while along the spacious court-yard, and among the nooks and crevices of the dark gray walls, the mellow beams fell lazily, gilding each point they touched, and turning the blackened rocks to brightened gold, with the voluptuous light of a summer noon. The massive cliff, from whose stern foundations the castle arose, sank suddenly, with a precipitous descent, into the bed of the valley, while around, venerable with the grandeur of ages, swept the magnificent forest, with its mass of verdure mellowing in the sunlight; and, winding on its way of silver, a broad and rapid stream, gleaming from the deep green foliage, now gave each wave and ripple to the kiss of day, and now, sweeping in its shadowy nooks, sheltered its beauty from the dazzling light.