side, the pleasing manner in which it is supplied, the refreshing coolness which it diffuses, and the graceful form of life and motion with which it impresses the spectator. You cannot, indeed, imagine anything finer in their way than some of the principal fountains of Rome. Before my visit to the Eternal City, I had been accustomed, for over two years, to the fountains of Paris, and had frequently seen those of Versailles and St. Cloud; but I could not think for a moment of comparing these " ornamented pumps," which play only as occasion may require, with the perpetual abundanse and solid magnificence of the corresponding Lomar decorations.

The very climate even of this favoured land is EPLlarly adapted to the presence of these dei Gushing and sparkling in the noontides

is a luxury, the full enjoyment of whim

I

to those who feel it, to breathe their famil ness, and to listen to the music of the tanış murmur; and when the blaze in THE evening glory, to look upon the gun to f those falling waters, is a volupe idler the en

prehensible in Rome. But

perhaps of all other time

ful. Glittering in the

stillness and repose, n

gratifying to the imaginati

of the Paolina, the expos N

brilliant shower offe

they all looked, fim pers

In fond admiration of any single one of them, I could have passed the entire night; but the programme of my friends embraced so many objects to be visited, and we had already remained so long before St. Peter's, and in the Vatican, that I could devote much less time than I desired to any of them individually.*

From the fountains we naturally turned to the aqueducts, having obtained permission to pass the gates; and after an hour or two spent in admiring these wondrous structures, and the effect of moonlight on their tall buttresses and ruined arches,† we terminated our fête nocturne by a visit to the Coliseum.

* Besides those fountains referred to in the text, there are several other very remarkable ones in Rome. That of the Acqua Felice, for instance, is interesting as the first erected in the city, and attracts many visitors by its celebrated "Moses," the author of which is said to have died of grief at the ridicule it excited. The central fountain in the Piazza Navona, which won for Bernini the favour of Innocent X., has been roundly declared by Martyn as "the most magnificent fountain in the world, and allowed by Coxe to be "much more nobly decorated" than even that of Trevi. Those in the Piazza Farnese are also particularly beautiful; and the fountain of the Monte Cavallo, though simple, is one of the prettiest in Rome. The Barcaccia, or boat, in the Piazza di Spagna, has been both praised and dispraised more than it deserves; but it is certainly, as a work of art, inferior to any of the others I have mentioned.

By many writers the aqueducts have been considered-and I think with justice amongst not only the most stupendous, but also the most picturesque monuments that remain to us of ancient Rome. Of their original number and magnitude, the following passage, which I translate from Pliny, will afford the reader some idea ::

"If we consider the incredible quantity of water brought to Rome for the uses of the public, for fountains, baths, fish-ponds, private houses, gardens, and country-seats; if we represent to ourselves the arches constructed at a great expense, and carried on through a long distance, mountains levelled, rocks cut through, and valleys filled up;

Here, again, we had the picture in "Manfred" realized once more," the blue midnight and the stars," "the time-worn breach," "the tuneless birds," "the noble wreck," and the "rolling moon." Here, too, we had another torchlight entertainment, having made a tour through the ambulacra and galleries of this extraordinary fabric; and the whole concluded in genuine English-though highly unromantic-fashion amid the rattle of knives and forks, and the other suggestive sounds of a midnight picnic in the ruins.

it must be acknowledged that there is nothing in the whole world more wonderful."-Hist. Nat. lib. 36, c. 15.

They were nine in number, from twelve to sixty-two miles in length, and, to use the words of a celebrated author, "conveyed whole rivers to the centre of the city."

For their appearance at the present day, I will let Eustace

answer:

"The ruins of these prodigious edifices, towering far above all modern buildings, attract the eye on the Cœlian and Esquiline mounts, but fix the attention still more powerfully when, sweeping in broken lines over the solitary Campagna, they present in the midst of desolation one of the most awful instances ever, perhaps, exhibited of maguificence in decay."

254

CHAPTER XXVI.

DEPARTURE FROM ROME.

The Morning of my Departure-The Appearance of the CountryReflections-Rome and Florence-Superior interest and splendour of the former-Emotion at Parting from Rome-Reminiscences— The Festivals The Statues-The Paintings-The Pope-Love for Rome increased by my sojourn therein-Adieux-Friends-My Last Adieu-Last View of Rome-Feelings experienced in leaving Rome described by an Ancient Writer (note).

It was a bright morning in the commencement of May, when, rolling under the arch of the Porta del Popolo, and along the famed Flaminian Way, I looked my last upon Eternal Rome. The sweetness of the later spring had ripened into the maturity of the early summer, and the carpet of verdure and embroidery of wild flowers that it spread before me, seemed almost sufficient in their loveliness to blot out even the memories of desolation, and the feelings of regret, with which one ever leaves the capital of the Cæsars and the city of the Popes. The fresh morning air played gently around my thoughtful brow, and bore to me on its soft wings the delicious fragrance of the hour; a deep silence prevailed around, and it seemed to me as though everything whereon my eye might rest had put on the witchery of its most enchanting smile, and strove to look its loveliest as I was parting from them all. Tiny leaflets that had just thrust themselves from the branching twigs were green and bright in the freshness of the

1

sunrise. Violets and flowering shrubs smiled out a sweet farewell; dark velvet pine-trees were rich with their massy crown of foliage; the vine stretched its tendrils into the sunshine; strange flowers festooned the hedges with their heavy, odoriferous masses; and here and there the ripening corn flowed in golden billows beneath the morning gale. The white orange-blossom sent forth its weight of perfume, and even the distorted cactus-leaf wore the grace of its yellow bloom. Dark olive-groves flung their shadows into the curving valleys; bright lines of snow sparkled and glittered on the distant mountain-tops, and a vault of the purest azure covered the delicious scene.

That moment what a crowd of reflections and reminiscences rushed upon my mind! The gate closed behind me on Rome; the vetturino's whip resounded on the air; the bells rang around the horses' necks; the red tassels waved amid their manes; and off we went upon our first day's journey, towards "the city by the Arno's bank." Would Florence interest me as much as Rome? Ah! Santa Maria dei Fiori cannot stand in comparison with St. Peter's. The Galleria is not equal to the Vatican. And then, where are the memories, the monuments, the marvels? Where is the Mistress of the World?-where is the capital of the Church? where is the metropolis of the arts? No, no! Florence cannot win my heart as Rome has done. Even this consolation was denied me; and sadly indeed I turned with my fellow-travellers, as we crossed the Milvian Bridge, and bade my last adieu to "the noblest city in the world." Ay, the noblest! One of its hun