File:Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna (1877) (14797191883).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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fated coast, and no ship could be discerned in itsharbour. Such of the inhabitants as had escaped with their lives, wandered far and widein poverty. The very name of Pompeii died away, and her place was known no more. Centuries passed over the buried city. Many Springs returned, and with air andsunshine coaxed from the arid soil a scanty vegetation, and a few young saplings. Thenmen began to return hither. They planted the descendants of ancient vines in the ashes, AMONG CRUCIAN RUINS. 395 and made the tree of Minerva shade once again the sunny plain. Ugly dwellings arose onthe site of the buried ones, and poor fishermens huts on the sea-shore. The verylanguage was changed. There, where once Greek and Latin resounded, the speech ofTasso now was heard. How had the world changed ! Nearly seventeen centuries hadelapsed since that day of terror, before the resuscitation arrived ; but then the buried oneshook the grave-clothes from about her, and stared,—the beautiful Greek!—-into the
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TEMPLE OK VLNUS NEAR BAI/E. strange modern world of the eighteenth century. There she stood, a stranger amidst thecrowd of curious enquirers : her tongue unknown save to the learned, her very name asubject of dispute and discussion. This is Pompeii ! How marvellously preserved ! A whole antique city lies beforeour astonished eyes to-day. We wander through her streets, we enter her open unin-habited houses, and cannot help fancying that the population will presently return joyousand full of life, from some festival in the Campanian plains. But all is still desolate. Lifehas tied, and the fair husk of it alone remains. Moved by a thousand varied emotions,we sit upon the flower-grown mound above the city, and lament with the Italian poet : Where now I sit, once on a time there stood Thy walls, Pompeii, towering loftily !Now thou art girdled round by many a rood Of rustic field. All hushed thy minstrelsy,Thy dance, and song ; and oer thy streets doth brood A lonely sadness mourning silent

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