File:Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna (1877) (14590661679).jpg

Identifier: italyfromalpstom00stie (find matches)
Title: Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna
Year: 1877 (1870s)
Authors: Stieler, Karl, 1842-1885 Cavagna Sangiuliani di Gualdana, Antonio, conte, 1843-1913, former owner. IU-R Paulus, Eduard, 1837-1907 Kaden, Woldemar, 1838-1907 Trollope, Frances Eleanor, d. 1913 Trollope, Thomas Adolphus, 1810-1892
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Publisher: London : Chapman and Hall
Contributing Library: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

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set in it as in a frame. We look across vine-yards and wild shrubs, into a grand and beautiful solitude. The sea marks the horizonon which the rocky island of Vendutena looms, and where white sails glance across theblue. On the drear sea-shore, the grey, ruinous Acropolis rises like an enchanted castle AMONG GRECIAN RUINS. 401 in a fairy talc. Daedalus alighted here when he had taken flight from the kingdom ofMinos, and here he built the temple of Apollo, and adorned it with fair mythic figures,and with the image of his unfortunate son. Here too is the theatre of the hoariestGrecian antiquity: the stage of the oldest Odyssey, and the scene of the yEneid. Inthe spacious caverns of these rocks, the Cumaean sibyl uttered her oracles, the Erythraeanvirgin who carried hence the new rolls of sybilline leaves to Tarquinius Superbus. In those days Graeco-Roman legend knew and named every stone, and even to thisday the grand landscape is steeped in the magic of that legend. The glamour of the
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TEMPLE OF NEPTUNE AT P/ESTUM. heroic times is over it all, and in imagination we see the old lofty shapes which liveeternally youthful in epic song, rise again out of the mists. What a landscape! Whata change after only a few hours pilgrimage ! Are we still on the blooming soil of Naples?Where is the joyous populace, living only in the present ? All that is small and pitiful in these modish modern days is far, far from us here, andour lyre sounds no more sweet lays about the love of one heart, or the sorrows of oneinsignificant individual. The whole of the great antique world seems to be expressed ingrand solemn chords, and the soul, filled with sympathy for that greatness, is ravishedaway from the present, and looking forth from the lonely heights of the Acropolis wouldfain spread the wings of Daedalus and fly away over the golden-purple distance :—wouldfain fly to the wave-bordered Cape of Circe, the tomb of Elpenor rising near Terracina,beyond the seas which the bold Tyrrhene peo

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