"  Now  upon  Syria's  land  of  roses

Softly  the  light  of  eve  reposes,

And,  like  a  glory,  the  broad  sun

Hangs  over  sainted  Lebanon;
Whose  head  in  wintry  grandeur  towers,

And  whitens  with  eternal  sleet ;
Wliile  Summer,  in  a  vale  of  flowers,

Is  sleeping  rosy  at  his  feet."

At  this  hour,  nothing  can  exceed  the  beauty
of  the  view.  To  the  west,  the  sky  is  one  sheet
of  burnished  gold,   shedding  its  brightness  for


BEYROUT.  25

miles  over  the  waters.  Here  and  there,  the
descending  sun  throws  streaks  of  light  across
the  many-coloured  houses  of  Beyrout,  and  be-
yond, the  varied  and  ever-changing  tints  of  the
mountains, — now  bright  green,  now  purple;  at
one  moment,  the  deep  gorges  revealed  to  the
eye,  the  next  lost  in  impenetrable  shade;  here
the  monasteries  standing  out  in  bold  relief,  there
lost  to  view  as  if  by  magic, — all  form  a  picture
which  even  Poussin  or  Claude  Lorraine  has
never  realized.  Passing  the  Hotel  de  Belle  Yue,
a  narrow  path  winds  along  the  rocky  shore  until,
arriving  at  the  potteries,  it  becomes  wider,  and
then  forms  a  delightful  promenade  to  the  ex-
treme point  of  Eas-el-Beyrout  where  the  cliff
rises  two  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.
The  walk  is  pleasantly  varied  by  proceeding
over  the  sands  and  through  the  winding  lanes,
bordered  by  the  cactus  and  numerous  flowering
shrubs,  to  the  Grande  Place  and  the  barracks,
whence  there  is  a  beautiful  view,  overlooking
the  town,  St.  George's  Bay,  the  IS'ahr-Beyrout,
and  Lebanon.  Often,  from  this  barrack  hill,
have  I  admired  the  wonderful  light  and  shade
on  the  mountains,  and  the  various  changes  in
the  colour  of  the  sea.  In  the  morning,  the
mountain    casts   its   immense   shadow   over  the


26         EGYPT,    CYPRUS,    AND   ASIATIC  TURKEY.
