who have just left us ?" "The Conte Bolognetti, and his two attendants," was the answer. Our companions then satisfied our further curiosity by informing us, that they themselves were the municipal guard of Vico-Vario, who had been ordered to escort the Count to his residence in that town from Tivoli-because " La strada è sospetta." In fact, his excellency was afraid of the brigands, and these poor fellows had to race and chase by his side to protect him; he never once seemed to consider that a horse's speed is something greater than that of a biped; and no doubt he joined us for further security, as an addition to his party. The Count was dis. guised as a peasant. His firelock, his cloak, velveteen jacket and trowsers, and other habiliments, as well as the trappings of his horse, were of the most ordinary description.

Such then was our proof positive that the ill-fame of this district was not imaginary, or the mere gossip of travellers, for the very natives seemed to live in constant apprehension. The mountains, whose inhabitants now compose the banditti that infest the neighbourhood of Tivoli, were formerly the retreats of the Equi-a people whose character for honesty and integrity is said to have formed the etymology of the word Equitas.

The approach to Vico-Vario, and the town itself when seen at the distance of a mile or two, is extremely imposing; but as we rode through it, we had the mortification to find that the bright object which makes so beautiful a picture in the perspective, is but a sorry collection of buildings, inhabited by persons too poor or too idle to keep them in a tolerable state of repair or cleanliness. Vico-Vario is the Varia of Horace, and one of the places, whose vicinity identifies the spot, which was the poet's favorite resort.

Villice silvarum et mihi me reddentis agelli,

Quem tu fastidis, habitatum quinque focis, et

Quinque bonos solitum Variam dimittere patres.-Epis, l. 1. 14. A prospect of such surpassing beauty cheered our spirits, the moment we quitted the dull street of Vico-Vario, that we should have been rewarded for our ride from Tivoli, even if we could not have proceeded further among the mountains. With most accommodating precision and fidelity, our "Carta Generale della parte Sabina ove era situata la Casa di Campagna d'Orazio" pointed out, by the assistance of figures marked on the map, where we were to stop, and to enjoy the best points of view; and nothing could be more interesting than to compare, one after another, each of the ten engraved sketches which we carried with us with the scenery we came to explore.

At the spot of which I am speaking a lovely country greeted our eyes, which in every feature of it was the Italy of the poet, of the painter, and of the enthusiast. Mountains at no great distance closed in the landscape on every side. Between two of these the

Anio was seen forcing his passage with an impetuosity that looked as if it was the violence of his waters which had originally riven the cleft, over which a bridge has since been thrown to unite the dissevered sides. Some venerable ruins of the Claudian aqueduct ornamented the right of the bank, and the convent of Cosimato crowned the rocky and well-wooded eminence, which rose in almost perpendicular grandeur above the foaming waters on the left. After the river has made his way through this romantic glen, it becomes somewhat wider, and less impetuous in its course; and when we saw it, it was refreshing a vale, in which orchards in full bloom, meadows in gayest verdure, and vineyards trained in the most graceful forms, combined to render the view exactly such as would excuse a tourist for raving when he attempts to describe it. The dreams of the poet-the legends of the monk-the exploits of heroism, and the generous achievements of chivalry, crowded upon our minds, in confused, but not ungrateful association, as we directed our eyes from the smiling landscape to the cross on the convent-gate, or from the ramparts of Cantalupo to the ruined fortress on the opposite mountain.

With objects like these before us, we rode gently on till we came within a quarter of a mile of the convent of Cosimato, where our map told us we must take a lane to the left, which would conduct us towards the Sabine Farm. This lane after a while opened among corn-fields, where most probably we should have been bewildered, but for a stream which we saw chasing its way into the Anio, and which we recognised as the Digentia of Horace, though now known under the name of the Licenza.

Me quoties reficit gelidus Digentia rivus.-Ep. i. 18.

With this as a guide, we made our way straight across the fields, till we again found our selves upon a road, which though rugged and narrow, was evidently that which our map designated as Strada di Licenza. Very different indeed must have been the smooth highway which the luxurious poet took care to have for his convenience, otherwise I am sure he would have left it on record, that he had a toilsome way to encounter, before he could reach the beloved haunts of his idler hours. But though the road may be changed for the worse, the face of this classic country remains the same: the same purple hills-the same gray rocks-the same white bed of the gelid Digentia. The

"Sotto Vico-Varo però, dove scorre l'Aniene, che è uno de' luoghi più pittoreschi, che possa immaginarsi, si vedono i ruderi di un' acquedotto antico che lo traversava, che altri alla Claudia, altri alla Marcia attribuiscono." Viaggio Antiquario ne' contorni di Roma. Di A. Nibby.

VOL. XXX.

Cl. J.

NO. LX.

P

outlines of all had varied nothing; and though the villages which stud the slopes of the mountains may have assumed new forms, and new names, yet the acclivities on which they stand were the same to his eye, that they were to ours. Bold, undulatory, or serrated, they present that variety of aspect which is one of the charms of mountain scenery; and every step, that you advance to, or recede from, them, exhibits them in a novel point of view. Cantalupo, on the summit of one of the ridges, and Mandela, a little below it, are noble objects.

The situation of Mandela, now called Bardella, is precisely what Horace describes it

Quem Mandela bibit rugosus frigore pagus-Ep. i. 18.

Cool from its situation on the mountain, and refreshed by the stream that runs at the foot of the declivity, it is an object which none can view without considerable interest. The Digentia itself, until you approach nearer to its source, is perhaps too wide and shallow to be picturesque, it has scarcely any green margin, and its white bed would not please the eye, did it not contrast well with the darker coloring of the mountains.

After crossing a run of water that descends from the heights into the Digentia, our rough path divided itself into two branchesthe right lay along the valley of Ustica, and at no great distance from the river, while the left conducted by a very abrupt ascent to Rocca Giovane, the Fanum Vacuna of the tenth Epistle

Hæc tibi dictabam post fanum putre Vacunæ.

Our poor horses, who were rather jaded by this time, found great difficulty in making their way over the immense stones that impeded their path; and the gull-ways and ravines were so menacing as we advanced, that at length we were obliged to dismount and to lead our nags, before we could reach Rocca Giovane; and when we reached it, we found it to be one of the most miserable and filthy places that we had yet explored. The wretched hovels, and their wretched inhabitants, offered nothing in the way of attraction to detain us; and after examining some enormous blocks of Travertine stone, that may or may not have been part of the ancient shrine which stood on this eminence, and at the foot of which the bard addressed his epistle to Fuscus Aristius, in praise of the rural and sylvan scene below, on which his eye rested, we commenced our descent through groves of chesnut-trees towards what is generally considered to be the remains, or rather the site of the poet's villa. Perhaps we did not follow the proper and direct route; but of this we felt perfectly satisfied, that if Horace had no other, or more easy access to the temple, than the road by which we departed from it, the jovial bard must really have proceeded

on his way to it in the full strength of those two sentiments which he professed to entertain.

Vacuna has been called the goddess of leisure.-Any thing but agreeable and leisurely is the approach to her shrine, by whatever path it may be attempted. Through many a brake and thicket, and across many a rill did we scramble before we arrived at the place of which we were in search, and which has the reputation of being the veritable spot on which stood the Sabine Farm.

It is no easy task to delineate the situation, because it does not differ much from the general aspect of the ground that lies between the rocks on which the Rocca Giovane is built, and the Digentia: it is all a broken or undulating surface, and there are so many groves of chesnut-trees and bushy knolls, that to point it out as distinguished by either one or the other of these, would only increase the difficulty. Unless a traveller is conducted to the very spot, there is no description which would enable him to find it; for a little brick-work and two or three fragments, which look as if they may have formed the plinths of small columns, are all that remain. The border of Mosaic pavement, which was formerly to be seen among the other relics, is now exhibited at Licenza.

As far as my own opinion goes, I do not think that what is shown by the country people as the site of the farm deserves that name; it is neither the most convenient, the most beautiful, nor the most fertile corner in which the villa might have been erected; nor is there any character about it, except the adventitious circumstance of its containing the above-mentioned fragments, which renders it deserving of its present celebrity. There is little doubt that the Sabine Farm was in the immediate neighborhood; but where the "pauper tectum" of the poet stood, may still be considered problematical. Any person who goes in search of the identical plot of ground where his humble roof rose, amidst the shades of the ilex and the vine, must return without feeling satisfied that he has discovered it; but the general features of the little estate are discernible almost to demonstration. It was therefore in the full confidence that we were rambling where Horace had passed so many delightful hours, without caring much about the exact position of his rustic villa, that we delivered our horses to a peasant, with orders to lead them to Licenza, and then pursued our walk in search of the fountain and rivulets, by the side of whose waters he used to pour forth those strains which will never fail to invite his admirers to the sweet haunts that inspired them.

From the supposed site of the farm-house, we continued our excursion down the declivity, and through groves of walnut and chesnut-trees, towards the Digentia, till we reached the lower part

of the valley, where the river receives, nearly at the same point, the accession of four mountain torrents. Here we stood for some minutes to enjoy the magnificent amphitheatre by which we were surrounded. We were at the foot of Lucretilis and Ustica-we were in the valle reducta, which is never without shade, on one side or other-we were enclosed by the montes continui, that seemed to shut us out from the rest of the world. The murmuring of waters gushing or rolling at our feet, were the only sounds that disturbed our reveries. The village of Licenza occupied a most romantic position on one of the acclivities of Ustica; above it frowned the Borgo of Civitella. By moving a few paces we could see the convent of Cosimato, with its white tower shining in the distance; the gray walls of Bardella and Cantalupo; and the ruins of the ancient Fanum Vacunæ, perched like an eagle's nest on the brow of an inaccessible rock.

The evening was closing in apace, and we were obliged to turn away from this tranquil spot, and the splendid objects which it commanded, that we might explore the grottos and fountains of Lucretilis before night-fall. We directed our steps to the left, and following the course of a deep ravine, down which the Digentia was pouring from his source, we began to ascend, and soon after to clamber by a precipitous path, which our rustic Cicerone assured us would conduct to the Fonte Bello, the Fons Blandusia of the poet. The difficulties of the ascent seemed to argue against the identity of that celebrated fountain. Could the indolent and voluptuous bard, whose affection for locomotion was never very great, persuade himself to make many pilgrimages to a spot beset with such obstacles, however beautiful he might have considered it?

O Fons Blandusiæ, splendidior vitro
Dulci digne mero, non sine floribus
Cras donaberis hædo.-Ode 3. 13.

Fons etiam rivo dare nomen idoneus, ut nec
Frigidior Thracam, nec purior ambiat Hebrus :
Infirmo capiti fluit utilis, utilis alvo.

Hæ latebræ dulces, etiam, si credis, amœnæ

Incolumem tibi præstant Septembribus horis.-Ep. 16.

Or would his cattle, after the labors of the day were over, toil up this rugged mountain path, for the sake of shade, that might be found nearer to their pasturage?

But for these considerations, the illusion would have been complete; for the general character of Lucretilis itself, and of the fountain, from which springs the cool and transparent Digentia, corresponds with the descriptions of the poet in the 17th ode of the 1st book, and the 13th ode of the 3d book, and in the 16th epistle.