File:With Shelley in Italy - being a selection of the poems and letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley which have to do with his life in Italy from 1818 to 1822 (1905) (14781752712).jpg

Identifier: withshelleyinitashelrich (find matches)
Title: With Shelley in Italy : being a selection of the poems and letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley which have to do with his life in Italy from 1818 to 1822
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors: Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 1792-1822 McMahan, Anna Benneson
Subjects: Poetry of places -- Italy Italy -- Description and travel Poetry
Publisher: Chicago : McClurg
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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ites tworocky mountains, —there is the path of a torrent below,whitening the green dell with its broad and barren trackof stones, and above there is a castle, apparently of greatstrength and of tremendous magnitude, which overhangsthe city, and whose marble bastions are perpendicular withthe precipice. I never saw a more impressive picture; inwhich the shapes of nature are of the grandest order, butover which the creations of man, sublime from their an-tiquity and greatness, seem to predominate. The castlewas built by Belisarius or Narses, I forget which, but wasof that epoch. From Spoleto we went to Terni, and saw the cataractof the Velino. The glaciers of Montanvert and the sourceof the Arveiron is the grandest spectacle I ever saw.This is the second. Imagine a river sixty feet in breadth,with a vast volume of waters, the outlet of a great lakeamong the higher mountains, falling 300 feet into a sight-less gulf of snow-white vapour, which bursts up for ever(68) w VTEUFALL at Tirni.
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- See Letter from Rome, p. C8. THE YEAR 1818 and for ever from a circle of black crags, and thence leap-ing downwards, makes five or six other cataracts, eachfifty or a hundred feet high, which exhibit, on a smallerscale, and with beautiful and sublime variety, the sameappearances. But words — and far less could painting —will not express it. Stand upon the brink of the platformof clifP, which is directly opposite. You see the ever-moving water stream down. It comes in thick and tawnyfolds, flaking off like solid snow gliding down a mountain.It does not seem hollow within, but without it is unequal,like the folding of linen thrown carelessly down; your eyefollows it, and it is lost below; not in the black rockswhich gird it around, but in its own foam and spray, inthe cloud-like vapours boiling up from below, which isnot like rain, nor mist, nor spray, nor foam, but water, ina shape wholly unlike anything I ever saw before. It isas white as snow, but thick and impenetrable to the

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