We were now in sight of Monte Moro, which, as the name denotes, was
once a fortress of the Moors; it is a high steep hill, on the
summit and sides of which are ruined walls and towers; at its
western side is a deep ravine or valley, through which a small
stream rushes, traversed by a stone bridge; farther down there is a
ford, over which we passed and ascended to the town, which,
commencing near the northern base, passes over the lower ridge
towards the north-east. The town is exceedingly picturesque, and
many of the houses are very ancient, and built in the Moorish
fashion. I wished much to examine the relics of Moorish sway on
the upper part of the mountain, but time pressed, and the short
period of our stay at this place did not permit me to gratify my
inclination.

Monte Moro is the head of a range of hills which cross this part of
the Alemtejo, and from hence they fork east and south-east, towards
the former of which directions lies the direct road to Elvas,
Badajos, and Madrid; and towards the latter that to Evora. A
beautiful mountain, covered to the top with cork trees, is the
third of the chain which skirts the way in the direction of Elvas.
It is called Monte Almo; a brook brawls at its base, and as I
passed it the sun was shining gloriously on the green herbage on
which flocks of goats were feeding, with their bells ringing
merrily, so that the tout ensemble resembled a fairy scene; and
that nothing might be wanted to complete the picture, I here met a
man, a goatherd, beneath an azinheira, whose appearance recalled to
my mind the Brute Carle, mentioned in the Danish ballad of Swayne
Vonved:-