trast to the glowing and lively tints of the surrounding country. On
their lofty summits the clouds appear to have fixed their abode; and in
their inhospitable regions no living thing can dwell.--Still barren and
dreary they remain, in the very bosom of luxuriance and cheerfulness;
throughout the vicissitudes of climate and season they are for ever the
same.
Granada was the last strong hold of the Moors in Spain. They had for
seven centuries defied the power of different Christian sovereigns, who
by unremitted efforts slowly and progressively regained those
territories which had been suddenly wrested from their ancestors.
Indeed, it required the lapse of ages and a series of successes, wrought
by the exertions of many a distinguished warrior, to recover those
possessions which had been thus lost by the weakness of a king, and the
treason of a prelate.[1]
Ferdinand and Isabella, happily uniting by marriage the crowns of
Arragon and Castile, consolidated the power and gave a new impulse to
the energies of the Christians. After a variety of minor advantages,
they resolved to lay siege to Granada, fortunately at a time when that
city was a prey to civil dissentions, occasioned by the rival families
of the Zegris and Abencerrages. The Moors, gradually weakened by their
domestic broils, offered but an inadequate opposition to the enemy, who
pressed them, on this account, with increasing ardour. After a
protracted siege of eight months, in which a host of warriors
distinguished themselves, Granada, the royal residence of the Moslems
for seven hundred years, surrendered, and the banner of the Cross
streamed triumphantly over the turrets of the Alhambra.
The Moors seemed satisfied with their new masters, and the partial
change of government which ensued; so that King Ferdinand returned to
Seville, leaving the subdued city in apparent tranquillity. This calm
was, however, but of short duration. Strong symptoms of disaffection
were soon observable in the conduct of the vanquished Moors, and the
murmurs of discontent which prevailed in every quarter, shortly
terminated in open revolt.
The Archbishop of Toledo, in his intemperate zeal for the conversion of
the infidels, had adopted measures which tended rather to increase their
natural aversion to the Christian religion, than to wean them from a
creed, the mandates of which were in greater harmony with their habits
and inclination. The prelate seeing his designs thwarted by
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