] of the
cathedral graves--suddenly we became aware of a vast necropolis rising
upon the far-off horizon--a city of sepulchres, built within the
saintly cathedral for the warrior dead that rested from their feuds on
earth. Of purple granite was the necropolis; yet, in the first minute,
it lay like a purple stain upon the horizon, so mighty was the
distance. In the second minute it trembled through many changes,
growing into terraces and towers of wondrous altitude, so mighty was
the pace. In the third minute already, with our dreadful gallop, we
were entering its suburbs. Vast sarcophagi rose on every side, having
towers and turrets that, upon the limits of the central aisle, strode
forward with haughty intrusion, that ran back with mighty shadows into
answering recesses. Every sarcophagus showed many bas-reliefs--bas-
reliefs of battles and of battle-fields; battles from forgotten ages,
battles from yesterday; battle-fields that, long since, nature had
healed and reconciled to herself with the sweet oblivion of flowers;
battle-fields that were yet angry and crimson with carnage. Where the
terraces ran, there did _we_ run; where the towers curved, there
did _we_ curve. With the flight of swallows our horses swept round
every angle. Like rivers in flood wheeling round headlands, like
hurricanes that ride into the secrets of forests, faster than ever
light unwove the mazes of darkness, our flying equipage carried earthly
passions, kindled warrior instincts, amongst the dust that lay around
us--dust oftentimes of our noble fathers that had slept in God from
Crecy to Trafalgar.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103