From this
place a road led across the meadow-land to L'Isle, six miles distant. This
little town is so named because it is situated on an island formed by the
crystal Sorgues, which flows from the fountains of Vaucluse.
It is a very picturesque and pretty place. Great mill-wheels, turning
slowly and constantly, stand at intervals in the stream, whose grassy
banks are now as green as in springtime. We walked along the Sorgues--
which is quite as beautiful and worthy to be sung as the Clitumnus--to the
end of the village to take the road to Vaucluse. Beside its banks stands
the "Hotel de Petrarque et Laure." Alas that names of the most romantic
and impassioned lovers of all history should be desecrated to a sign-post
to allure gormandizing tourists!
The bare mountain in whose heart lies the poet's solitude now rose before
us at the foot of the lofty Mount Ventoux, whose summit of snows extended
beyond. We left the river and walked over a barren plain across which the
wind blew most drearily. The sky was rainy and dark, and completed the
desolateness of the scene, which in nowise heightened our anticipations of
the renowned glen.
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