little lower than the level of perpetual snow: in truth, Hermon, in most years, retains throughout the summer its almond-blossom splendour;—and as to the lower ranges, they overhang slopes, and glades, and ravines, and narrow plains, that are unrivalled on earth for wild luxuriant beauty. In ancient times these rich valleys were mantled with cedar forests; and the cedar, in its perfection, is as the lion among the beasts, and as the eagle among the birds. This majestic tree, compared with any others of its class, has more of altitude and of volume than any of them: it has more of umbrageous amplitude, and especially it has that tranquil aspect of venerable continuance through centuries which so greatly recommends natural objects to the speculative and meditative tastes. The cedar of Lebanon, graceful and serviceable while it lives, has the merit of preparing in its solids, a perfume which commends it, when dead, to the noblest uses:—this wood invites the workman's tool for every ingenious device; and its odoriferous substance is such as to make it grateful alike in palaces and in temples.
It is only in these last times—at the end of thirty centuries—that a river, which has no fellow on earth—which has poured its waters down to their rest near at hand to the civilized world, and has been crossed at many points—it is only now that it has come to be understood; and the mystery of its seventy miles of course opened up. Why it was not understood long ago is itself a mystery. The
