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in her fulness； shining in the midst of an unclouded sky！〃
On such heavenly nights I would sit for hours at my window
inhaling the sweetness of the garden； and musing on the checkered
fortunes of those whose history was dimly shadowed out in the
elegant memorials around。 Sometimes； when all was quiet； and the clock
from the distant cathedral of Granada struck the midnight hour； I have
sallied out on another tour and wandered over the whole building；
but how different from my first tour！ No longer dark and mysterious；
no longer peopled with shadowy foes； no longer recalling scenes of
violence and murder； all was open； spacious； beautiful； every thing
called up pleasing and romantic fancies； Lindaraxa once more walked in
her garden； the gay chivalry of Moslem Granada once more glittered
about the Court of Lions！ Who can do justice to a moonlight night in
such a climate and such a place？ The temperature of a summer
midnight in Andalusia is perfectly ethereal。 We seem lifted up into
a purer atmosphere； we feel a serenity of soul； a buoyancy of spirits；
an elasticity of frame； which render mere existence happiness。 But
when moonlight is added to all this； the effect is like enchantment。
Under its plastic sway the Alhambra seems to regain its pristine
glories。 Every rent and chasm of time； every mouldering tint and
weather…stain is gone； the marble resumes its original whiteness；
the long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams； the halls are
illuminated with a softened radiance… we tread the enchanted palace of
an Arabian tale！
What a delight； at such a time； to ascend to the little airy
pavilion of the queen's toilet （el tocador de la Reyna）； which； like a
bird…cage； overhangs the valley of the Darro； and gaze from its
light arcades upon the moonlight prospect！ To the right； the
swelling mountains of the Sierra Nevada； robbed of their ruggedness
and softened into a fairy land； with their snowy summits gleaming like
silver clouds against the deep blue sky。 And then to lean over the
parapet of the Tocador and gaze down upon Granada and the Albaycin
spread out like a map below； all buried in deep repose； the white
palaces and convents sleeping in the moonshine； and beyond all these
the vapory Vega fading away like a dream…land in the distance。
Sometimes the faint click of castanets rises from the Alameda； where
some gay Andalusians are dancing away the summer night。 Sometimes
the dubious tones of a guitar and the notes of an amorous voice；
tell perchance the whereabout of some moon…struck lover serenading his
lady's window。
Such is a faint picture of the moonlight nights I have passed
loitering about the courts and halls and balconies of this most
suggestive pile； 〃feeding my fancy with sugared suppositions；〃 and
enjoying that mixture of reverie and sensation which steal away
existence in a southern climate； so that it has been almost morning
before I have retired to bed； and been lulled to sleep by the
falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa。