large/4193/great_god_pan_1108_librivox_64kb_mp3/greatgodpan_08_machen_64kb_36
large/4193/great_god_pan_1108_librivox_64kb_mp3/greatgodpan_08_machen_64kb
English
4193
But in all my wanderings I avoided one part of the wood; it was not till yesterday that I climbed to the summit of the hill, and stood upon the ancient Roman road that threads the highest ridge of the wood. BUT IN ALL MY WANDERINGS I AVOIDED ONE PART OF THE WOOD IT WAS NOT TILL YESTERDAY THAT I CLIMBED TO THE SUMMIT OF THE HILL AND STOOD UPON THE ANCIENT ROMAN ROAD THAT THREADS THE HIGHEST RIDGE OF THE WOOD
 great wood that rises just above the village and climbs the hillside, and goes down to the river in the valley; such another long lovely valley, Raymond, as that on which we looked one summer night, walking to and fro before your house. For many an hour I strayed through the maze of the forest, turning now to right and now to left, pacing slowly down long alleys of undergrowth, shadowy and chill, even under the midday sun, and halting beneath great oaks; lying on the short turf of a clearing where the faint sweet scent of wild roses came to me on the wind and mixed with the heavy perfume of the elder, whose mingled odour is like the odour of the room of the dead, a vapour of incense and corruption. I stood at the edges of the wood, gazing at all the pomp and procession of the foxgloves towering amidst the bracken and shining red in the broad sunshine, and beyond them into deep thickets of close undergrowth where springs boil up from the rock and nourish the water-weeds, dank and evil. ME WAS SPENT IN THE GREAT WOOD THAT RISES JUST ABOVE THE VILLAGE AND CLIMBS THE HILLSIDE AND GOES DOWN TO THE RIVER IN THE VALLEY SUCH ANOTHER LONG LOVELY VALLEY RAYMOND AS THAT ON WHICH WE LOOKED ONE SUMMER NIGHT WALKING TO AND FRO BEFORE YOUR HOUSE FOR MANY AN HOUR I STRAYED THROUGH THE MAZE OF THE FOREST TURNING NOW TO RIGHT AND NOW TO LEFT PACING SLOWLY DOWN LONG ALLEYS OF UNDERGROWTH SHADOWY AND CHILL EVEN UNDER THE MIDDAY SUN AND HALTING BENEATH GREAT OAKS LYING ON THE SHORT TURF OF A CLEARING WHERE THE FAINT SWEET SCENT OF WILD ROSES CAME TO ME ON THE WIND AND MIXED WITH THE HEAVY PERFUME OF THE ELDER WHOSE MINGLED ODOUR IS LIKE THE ODOUR OF THE ROOM OF THE DEAD A VAPOUR OF INCENSE AND CORRUPTION I STOOD AT THE EDGES OF THE WOOD GAZING AT ALL THE POMP AND PROCESSION OF THE FOXGLOVES TOWERING AMIDST THE BRACKEN AND SHINING RED IN THE BROAD SUNSHINE AND BEYOND THEM INTO DEEP THICKETS OF CLOSE UNDERGROWTH WHERE SPRINGS BOIL UP FROM THE ROCK AND NOURISH THE WATER WEEDS DANK AND EVIL
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