File:Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna (1877) (14590460487).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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as if they had been built out of chalk under the sudden weird side lightthat falls on them. Then the rain traverses the country in dark, oblique lines, whilstclose beside it,—often even in the midst of the rain,—golden rays of sunlight fall instrange contrast upon the land that knows not whether it shall laugh or weep. The rainmoves onward, and covers one village, hill, or villa after another, with its grey veil; andthen the instant after they spring back into dazzling light, like children leaping from the THE NORTHERN WANDERER IN THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA. 291 bath. One must have seen the sunrise—and still more the sunset,—from the summit ofSoracte, the castle-hill of Palestrina, or the majestic Monte Cavo, in order to absorb intoones soul such images as memory will preserve for ever amongst its noblest and happiestpictures. No ; we have no such glories in the North ! And at the risk of being laughedat for an enthusiast, I dare maintain that a summer sunset on the Roman Campagna is
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BRACCIANO. the most splendid spectacle which the poetic soul can hope to see. Alas, only very fewcan enjoy it, however ; for at the moment when it is most magnificent, in August, there isno public to be found on the Campagna, and Nature plays to empty benches! Shepours out her golden colouring in streams, and exhausts herself to produce the mostluxuriant splendours in utter solitude. She mirrors herself in the most forsaken of seas,and descends into her bath at night, to rise next day from the waves under the purerays of the morning sun, in all the loveliness of Aphrodite. I remember yet, with deep emotion, a sunset such as I have only seen once in all mylife. We were returning from the sea-shore, along the ancient Via Ardeatina. It was arough September evening, towards the end of the month ; a cutting cold north wind blewover the open heath, and rustled in the dry shrubs by the wayside, bending them to the p p 2 292 ITALY. earth, and sighed among the sunburnt rushes. A cold, dreary,

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