edinat Az-Zahra]

In what you divine rather than in what you see lies half the charm of
Andalusia, in the suggestion of all manner of delicate antique things,
in the vivid memory of past grandeur. The Moors have gone, but still
they inhabit the land in spirit and not seldom in a spectral way seem to
regain their old dominion. Often towards evening, as I rode through the
desolate country, I thought I saw an half-naked Moor ploughing his
field, urging the lazy oxen with a long goad. Often the Spaniard on his
horse vanished, and I saw a Muslim knight riding in pride and glory, his
velvet cloak bespattered with the gold initial of his lady, and her
favour fluttering from his lance. Once near Granada, standing on a hill,
I watched the blood-red sun set tempestuously over the plain; and
presently in the distance the gnarled olive-trees seemed living beings,
and I saw contending hosts, two ghostly armies silently battling with
one another; I saw the flash of scimitars, and the gleam of standards,
the whiteness of the turbans. They fought with horrible carnage, and the
land was crimson with their blood. Then the sun fell below the horizon,
and all again was still and lifeless.

And what can be more fascinating than that magic city of Az-Zahra, the
wonder of its age, of which now not a stone remains? It was made to
satisfy the whim of a concubine by a Sultan whose flamboyant passion
moved him to displace mountains for the sake of his beloved; and the
memory thereof is lost so completely that even its situation till lately
was uncertain. Az-Zahra the Fairest said to Abd-er-Rahm[=a]n, her lord:
'Raise me a city that shall take my name and be mine.' The Khalif built
at the foot of the mountain which is called the Hill of the Bride; but
when at last the lady, from the great hall of the palace, gazed at the
snow-white city contrasting with the dark mountain, she remarked: 'See,
O Master! how beautiful this girl looks in the arms of yonder
Ethiopian.' The jealous Khalif immediately commanded the removal of the
offending hill; and when he was convinced the task was impossible,
ordered that the oaks and other mountain trees which grew upon it should
be uprooted, and fig-trees and almonds planted in their stead.

Imagine the _Hall of the Khalif_, with walls of transparent and
many-coloured marble, with roof of gold; on each side were eight doors
fixed upon arches of ivory and ebony, ornamented with precious metals
and with precious s