The International Weekly Miscellany - Volume I, No. 2 | Page 6

hear thy footstep bounding o'er the stair!
And I no longer to my heart am telling The weary weight of loneliness
it bore; For thou, whose love makes heaven within our dwelling, Thou
art returned, and all is joy once more.
* * * * *
TO ----. BY MRS. R.B.K.
Oh how I loved thee! how I blessed the hour, When first thy lips,
wak'ning my trusting heart, Like some soft southern gale upon a flower,
Into a blooming hope, murmured "we ne'er will part."
Never to part! alas! the lingering sound Thro' the sad echoes of pale
Memory's cave, Startles once more the hope my young soul found, Into
bright hues, but, only for the grave ...
Must we then part! ah, till this heavy hour, Fraught with the leaden
weight of sorrowing years, I could have stemmed grief's tide like some
light shower, Where shows a rainbow hope to quell all idle fears.
But the dim phantoms of o'er shadowed pleasures, Gleaming thro'
gathering mists that cloud my heart, Lend but a transient ray, those
fragile treasures-- And heavier darkness falls to gloom the thought "We
part!"
JUNE 22, 1850.
* * * * *

ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE.
RAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA.
NO. II.
GRENADA, May 26, 1850.
My Dear Friend--My companion, Mr. Ronalds, left this morning in the
diligence for Madrid, and I am, therefore, for the first time since I have
been in Europe alone--the only citizen of the United States at present in
this ancient Moorish city: alone, I may almost say, in the midst of
paradise. Yet the beauties of nature will not compensate for the solitude
of the heart, which is continually yearning after sympathy; we wish for
something beyond the pleasures of the eye, and I would that you were
with me. I would take you up to me Alhambra, and descant to you for
hours upon its perfections and its romantic history. To me this
wondrous pile has become familiar; I have seen it at all hours of the
day, and have visited it in the enchantment of moonlight; and never
will pass from my memory the pleasant hours I have spent within its
sacred precincts; I shall remember them and those who shared them
with me--forever. A few days since we made up a party and rode out to
the famous town of Santa Fe, in the delightful Vega, about eight miles
away. We were all dressed in the gay costume of Andalusia, and
presented, as you may imagine, a picturesque appearance; my
companions were lively fellows, and we had a great deal of sport on the
way. Santa Fe is now a dilapidated place, but its associations make it
well deserving a visit. It was built by Ferdinand, during the memorable
siege of Grenada; it was here that Boabdil signed the capitulation of his
city; and it was from this spot, too, that Columbus was dispatched on
his mission of discovering a new world. The rich and fertile Vega, as
we rode with the speed of the wind over it, seemed to me like a fairy
land--so luxuriant the vegetation--so rich the meadows and fields of
waving grain--so exquisite the variety of cottages, and villages, and
groves, dotting so vast a plain--so pure and transparent the atmosphere,
that the most distant objects are as clearly defined as those nearest us.
Imagine so lovely a landscape--thirty miles in length by twenty-five in
width, surrounded by tremendous mountains,--those of the Sierra

Nevada, rising back of Grenada to the height of thirteen thousand feet
above the level of the sea, their summits covered by a dazzling mantle
of snow: imagine this, and you will have some faint idea of this
beautiful Eden of Spain. It is worth a long pilgrimage to gaze but for
one moment upon it, particularly from the Torre de la Vela of the
Alhambra, whence I have beheld it, both in the bright, gay sunshine,
and through the solemnly beautiful night, illumined by the stars and
moon.
The walks and gardens of Grenada are exceedingly beautiful. The
principal promenade is called (and very appropriately) El Salon. It is of
considerable extent--about eighty feet in width, with regular lines of
lofty elms on either side, the bending branches of which nearly meet in
an arch overhead. At both extremities of this charming avenue is a large
and handsome fountain of ever-flowing water. The ground of the walk
is hard--slightly curved; and as smooth and clean as the floor of a
ball-room, where convenient seats of stone, tastefully arranged beneath
the shade of the spreading trees, seem to invite one to meditation and
repose. Outside of this lovely promenade, are blooming gardens,
teeming with roses and other flowers, which fill the air with fragrance,
while through them on one side runs the