File:Out-of-Doors in the Holyland (1908) (14594018058).jpg

Identifier: outofdoorsinholy00regi (find matches)
Title: Out-of-Doors in the Holyland
Year: 1908 (1900s)
Authors: Regis Canevin
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Contributing Library: Gumberg Library, Duquesne University
Digitizing Sponsor: Lyrasis Members and Sloan Foundation

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bove thegorge of the River Lit^ni. From these three great fortresses, in the time of theCrusaders, flashed and answered the signal-fires of thechivalry of Europe fighting for possession of Palestine.What noble companies of knights and ladies inhab-ited these castles, what rich festivals were celebratedwithin these walls, what desperate struggles defendedthem, until at last the swarthy hordes of Saracensstormed the gates and poured over the defences andplanted the standard of the crescent on the towersand Ut the signal-fires of Islam from citadel to citadel. All the fires have gone out now. The yellow whinblazes upon the hillsides. The wild fig-tree splitsthe masonry. The scorpion lodges in the desertedchambers. On the fallen stone of the Crusadersgate, where the Moslem victor has carved his Arabicinscription, a green-gray lizard poises motionless,like a bronze figure on a paper-weight. We pass through the southern entrance of thevillage of BaniySs, a massive square portal, rebuilt 282
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THE SPRINGS OF JORDAN by some Arab ruler, and go out on the old Romanbridge which spans the ravine. The aqueduct car-ried by the bridge is still full of flowing water, and thedrops which fall from it in a fine mist make a littlerainbow as the afternoon sun shines through thearchway draped with maidenhair fern. On thestone pavement of the bridge we trace the ruts worntwo thousand years ago by the chariots of the menwho conquered the world. The chariots have allrolled by. On the broken edge of the tower abovethe gateway sits a ragged Bedouin boy, making shrill,plaintive music with his pipe of reeds. We repose in front of our tents among the olive-trees at the close of the day. The cool sound ofrunning streams and rustling poplars is on themoving air, and the orange-golden sunset enchantsthe orchard with mystical Hght. All the swift visionsof striving Saracens and Crusaders, of conqueringGreeks and Romans, fade away from us, and we seethe figure of the Man of Nazareth with His Httlecompa

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