Then there is the Court of the Lions, subject of so many songs, with the filigreed architecture of its covered walks. Enchanting in its delicate tracery and beauty, it is a fairy-tale, a poem in stone, infinitely rhythmic with music. And indeed, music is the only language that can render such beauty. The magnificent halls are full of a wealth of ornamentation. The walls are rainbow-like with the colours of Persian carpets and Cashmere shawls. Arabic inscriptions are scrolled along these labyrynths of colour, praising in exalted words the mystic beauty of the halls. One runs joyously: “God has filled me with such a plentitude of beauty that even the stars stay in their course enchanted to gaze on me." Once beautiful sultanas looked out from the “Seat of Admiration" (as the Arabs called that jewel of the Alhambra, the Mirador de Daraca,) into the pretty garden filled with the heavy scent of roses, jasmines and oleanders. A swaying mass of tangled climbing plants are festooned from laurel to cypress, and from cypress to orange-tree. In the middle there is a marvellously delicate fountain basin from the edges of which the water slides and drips with tuneful sound as if it fain would tell of long forgotten beauteous days. We leave the glittering fairy-palace full of memories of the Arabian Nights, and our lips whisper the wish of the Arabic poem writ over a little niche: “May Heaven’s blessings rest upon these castle halls As long as pilgrims wend their way to Mecca’s walls!" Nay, as long as clouds sail the skies, and seekers after beauty rove on earth! This is the mood one is in when climbing further up the mountain to the Moorish summer palace, the Generalife. We are met, as it were, and shown the way by a double row of slim black-green cypress--dark trees of silence. The Generalife is enthroned far up on the heights, and embedded in terrace-shaped gardens. The gardens! In them nature has enfolded all her abounding wealth of colour. Crimson-ramblers, wistarias, vines and ivy smother the walls. Mangolias, oleanders, almond trees, laurels, cypresses, araucarias, olive trees, agaves, palms and mimosa vie with one another for precedence. Flaming pomegranate blossoms, blood-red roses, violet mallows, blue fleurs-de-lis, white jasmine, yellow narcissi, and golden oranges in dark green foliage are a riot of colour. Ball shaped myrtles surround the little fountain, listening to the babbling of its silver waters, and in the twigs the song of birds greeting nature in her holiday garments. Wondrous peace broods o’er this land. Through trees and halls and wall arches there is a magnificent view of the Alhambra and the multi-coloured houses of the town at its feet, and further on to the picturesque Albaicin, and over cactus-grown Sacromonte with its gypsy cave-dwellings, and still further to the snow-capped Sierra Nevada. Another glance shows the fertile plains of the Vega through which the clear waters of the Genil flow.