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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Roots of the Mountains; Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale"


Thus then they entered into the narrow pass aforesaid, which was the
ingate to the Vale from the Waste, and little by little its dimness
swallowed up their long line. As they went by the place where the
lowering of the rock-wall gave a glimpse of the valley, they looked
down into it as Face-of-god had done, but much change was there in
little time. There was the black wall of crags on the other side
stretching down to the ghyll of the great Force; there ran the deep
green waters of the Shivering Flood; but the grass which Face-of-god
had seen naked of everything but a few kine, thereon now the tents of
men stood thick. Their hearts swelled within them as they beheld it,
but they forebore the shout and the cry till they should be well
within the Vale, and so went down silently into the darkness. But as
their eyes caught that dim image of the Wolf on the wall of the pass,
man pointed it out to man, and not a few turned and kissed it
hurriedly; and to them it seemed that many a kiss had been laid on
that dear token since the days of old, and that the hard stone had
been worn away by the fervent lips of men, and that the air of the
mirk place yet quivered with the vows sworn over the sword-blade.


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