The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe — Read

Let those deplore their doom, / Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn. / But lofty souls can look beyond the tomb, / Can smile at fate, and wonder how they mourn. / Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return? / Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed? -- / Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, / And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed, / Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead! / - Beattie

Emily, called, as she had requested, at an early hour, awoke, little refreshed by sleep, for uneasy dreams had pursued her, and marred the kindest blessing of the unhappy. But, when she opened her casement, looked out upon the woods, bright with the morning sun, and inspired the pure air, her mind was soothed. The scene was filled with that cheering freshness, which seems to breathe the very spirit of health, and she heard only sweet and picturesque sounds, if such an expression may be allowed -- the matin-bell of a distant convent, the faint murmur of the sea-waves, the song of birds, and the far-off low of cattle, which she saw coming slowly on between the trunks of trees. Struck with the circumstances of imagery around her, she indulged the pensive tranquillity which they inspired; and while she leaned on her window, waiting till St. Aubert should descend to breakfast, her ideas arranged themselves in the following lines: