follow, of the vast antiquity of the place, and the
supposed meaning of the Persian inscription on the two
pillars, only part of which is visible above the pavement.
I t was not a morning for worship in mysterious dark
places, and I soon left the temple, and, seated on the
steps below, watched the flooding of the valley with a
glow that spread from Mahadeo to the Pir Panjal, from
distant Kolahoi to Haramuk. The light swept in vast
waves, the snows flushed pink, the blue hillsides were
purple, the river gave back the glittering rays, while the
mists over the low-lying town were gathered together,
garlanded by unseen hands as they lingered above the
houses, then swept away, no longer needed during the
day, and the way made clear for the great life restorer.
The heads of the tall poplars, stately in their great
avenues, cut up the town in all directions, and rustled in
the fresh breeze, their bright leaves showing a livelier
underlining. The stately chenaars stood unmoved, but
down below, on the still surface of the lake, the myriad
water growths took a brighter hue, and lifted long lines
of bending stems and waved their slender leaves as the
light penetrated to them and the wind swept through.
Numberless chirrupings of happy birds filled the air,
and there rose a faint fragrance, rising from the wealth
of flowers opened by young spring. I thought I saw
“ Primavera,” that old-world figure with her tender
face, passing along the path below, Flora in attendance
with all the bounding grace the old Florentine knew
how to impart to his presentation of her, and the flying
train of Zephyr to blow away all impurities and
miasmas.
At first only Hari Parbat, crowned by a fortress,
had been visible, but quickly, as the mists were torn