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of innumerable living creatures. Lizards run about by myriads in the grass. Doves coo among the branches of the pines, and nightingales pour their full-throated music all day and night from thickets of whitethorn and acacia. The air is sweet with aromatic scents; the resin of the pine and juniper, the may-flowers and acacia-blossoms, the violets that spring by thousands in the moss, the wild roses and faint honeysuckles which throw fragrant arms from bough to bough of ash or maple, join to make one most delicious perfume. And, though the air upon the neighbouring marsh is poisonous, here it is dry, and spreads a genial health. The sea-wind, murmuring through these thickets at night-fall or misty sunrise, conveys no fever to the peasants stretched among their flowers. They watch the red rays of sunset streaming throngh the columns of the leafy hall, and glaring on its fretted rafters of entangled boughs; they see the stars come out, and Hesper gleam, an eye of brightness, among dewy branches; the moon walks silverfooted on the velvet tree-tops, while they sleep beside the camp-fires; fresh morning wakes them to the sound of birds and scent of thyme and twinkling of dew-drops upon the grass around. Meanwhile ague, fever, and death have been stalking all night long about the plain, within a few yards of their couch, and not one pestilential breath has reached the charmed precincts of the forest.

'You may ride or drive for miles along green aisles between the pines in perfect solitude; and yet the creatures of the wood, the sunlight, the birds, the flowers, and tall majestic columns at your side, prevent all sense of loneliness or fear. Huge oxen haunt the wilderness, grey creatures, with wild eyes and branching horns and stealthy tread. Some are patriarchs of the forest, the fathers and mothers of many generations who have been carried from their sides to serve in ploughs or waggons on the Lombard plain. Others are yearling calves, intractable and ignorant of labour. In order to subdue them to the yoke, it is necessary to take them very early from their native glades, or else they chafe and pine away with weariness. Then there is a sullen canal, which flows through the forest from the marshes to the sea; it is alive with frogs and newts and interminable snakes. You may see these serpents basking on the surface amid thickets of the flowering rush, or coiled about the lily-leaves and flowers,- huge monsters, slippery and speckled, the tyrants of the fen.'-7. A. Symonds.

From S. Apollinare one may return to the town by the Porta Sisi, passing the Colonna dei Francesi, on the banks of the river Ronco, erected in 1557 to commemorate the great battle gained April 11, 1512, by the troops of Louis XII. and the Duke of Ferrara over those of Julius II. The

victory was marred by the death of Gaston de Foix, who fell in the moment of victory. 20,000 dead were left upon the field.

'I canter by the spot each afternoon

Where perish'd in his fame the hero-boy

Who lived too long for men, but died too soon
For human vanity, the young De Foix !
A broken pillar, not uncouthly hewn,

But which neglect is hastening to destroy,
Records Ravenna's carnage on its face,

While weeds and verdure rankle round the base.

'I pass each day where Dante's bones are laid ;
A little cupola, more neat than solemn,
Protects his dust, but reverence here is paid

To the bard's tomb, and not the warrior's column;
The time must come when both, alike decay'd,

The chieftain's trophy and the poet's volume,
Will sink where lie the songs and wars of earth,
Before Pelides' death, or Homer's birth.

With human blood that column was cemented,
With human filth that column is defiled,
As if the peasant's coarse contempt were vented
To show his loathing of the spot he soil'd :
Thus is the trophy used, and thus lamented

Should ever be those bloodhounds from whose wild
Instinct of gore and glory earth has known
Those sufferings Dante saw in hell alone.'

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In the Strada di Porta Sisi (No. 225) Lord Byron lived in 1819, as is commemorated by an inscription. He moved hence to the Palazzo Guiccioli, 328 Via di Porta Adriana, where many of his poems were written.

The present harbour of Ravenna, only used by small coasting vessels, is about four miles distant, and connected with the port at Porta Alberoni by a canal. Near it is a hut where the visionary but disinterested patriot Garibaldi concealed himself from the Austrians during his flight from Rome in 1849, and here his beloved Anita died from the privations to which she had been exposed, and was buried.

'The least

Dead for Italia not in vain has died.

Forlorn

Of thanks be, therefore, no one of these graves,
Not hers,-who, at her husband's side, in scorn,
Out faced the whistling shot and hissing waves,
Until she felt her little babe unborn

Recoil, within her, from the violent slaves

And bloodhounds of this world,--at which, her life
Dropt inwards from her eyes, and followed it
Beyond the hunters. Garibaldi's wife
And child died so. And now, the sea-weeds fit
Her body, like a proper shroud and coif,
And murmurously the ebbing waters quit
The little pebbles while she lies interred
In the sea-sand.'

E. Barrett-Browning.

It is strongly to be recommended that those who proceed from Ravenna to Rimini should drive thither in a carriage (about five hours, and for a party not nearly so expensive as the railway). The road skirts the Pineta, passes through the picturesque little town of Cesenatico, and, about nine miles before entering Rimini, crosses (near Sant' Archangelo, the birthplace of Clement XIV.) the stream of the Uso. This is generally considered to be the Rubicon,' which, though a small river, had once a great importance, as from forming the boundary between Umbria and Cisalpine Gaul, it came, when the limits of Italy were considered to extend only to the frontiers of Cisalpine Gaul, to be regarded as the northern boundary of Italy. This it was which caused the passage of the Rubicon by Caesar to be regarded as so momentous an event, Here the Genius of Rome arose to restrain her son.

'Ut ventum est parvi Rubiconis ad undas, Ingens visa duci patriae trepidantis imago,

1 For a long time the identification of the Rubicon was a matter of controversy, and the Pisatello, two miles from Cesena, was regarded as having the principal claim to the name. An action which involved the inquiry was instituted at Rome, and in 1756 the decision of the 'Rota' was given in favour of the Uso.

Clara per obscuram vultu maestissima noctem

Turrigero canos effundere vertice crines.'-Lucan, i. 185.1

The smallness of this and other historic streams in Italy will produce almost a shock

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'Sometimes misguided by the tuneful throng,
I look for streams immortalized in song,
That lost in silence and oblivion lie

(Dumb are their fountains, and their channels dry),
Yet run for ever by the muses' skill,

And in the smooth description murmur still.'-Eustace.

1 'Now near the banks of Rubicon he stood;
When lo! as he survey'd the narrow flood,
Amidst the dusky horrors of the night,
A wondrous vision stood confest to sight
Her awful head Rome's rev'rend image rear'd.
Trembling and sad the matron form appear'd;
A tow'ry crown her hoary temples bound,
And her torn tresses rudely hung around.'-Rowe.

Equally distant from Ravenna and Ferrara, but a long day's journey from either place, and most difficult to visit, as there is no sleeping accommodation possible in the dismal. marches of Comacchio, is the strangely grand and utterly. desolate Church of S. Maria Pomposa. Its second consecration was in 1027. It is of the same class with the noblest of the Ravenna churches, and has sculptured capitals which rival those of S. Vitale in their richness and delicacy. The mosaics with which the walls were once covered were replaced by paintings by Cecco da Firenze, 1316. In the chapter-house, which is the property of Count Guiccicli, are some frescoes by the rare master Pietro da Rimini (Petrus de Arimino'), who lived in the early part of the 14th century.

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