He is watching a mighty glen that pierces the mountain, dark with misty shadows.

He is watching the waterfalls that stream from among the vineyards into the sea below, and one long white monastery, perched up among the crags above the highway of the world.
Borne upon the full north wind, the manhood and intelligence of Europe goes past, day by day, in white winged ships.

And above all, unheeding, century after century, the old monks have vegetated there, saying their masses, and ringing their chapel bells, high on the windy cliff..