Of many triumphal arches which stood formerly in Rome, there are only three now remaining, all of them near the Capitol, and forming entries to the Forum; those of Titus, Septimius Severus, and Constantine. The last is by much the finest of the three; but its chief beauties are not genuine, nor, properly speaking, its own; they consist of some admirable basso relievos, stolen from the Forum of Trajan, and representing that Emperor’s victories over the Dacians. This theft might, perhaps, not have been so notorious to posterity, if the artists of Constantine’s time had not added some figures, which make the fraud apparent, and, by their great inferiority, evince the degeneracy of the arts in the interval between the reigns of these two Emperors. The relievos of the arch of Titus represent the table of shew-bread, the trumpets, the golden candlesticks with seven branches, and other utensils, brought from the Temple of Jerusalem. The quarter which is allotted for the Jews is not at a great distance from this arch. There are about nine thousand of that unfortunate nation at present in Rome; the lineal descendants of those brought captive, by Titus, from Jerusalem. I have been assured that they always cautiously avoid passing through this arch, though it lies directly in their way to the Campo Vaccino, choosing rather to make a circuit, and enter the Forum at another place. I was affected at hearing this instance of sensibility in a people who, whatever other faults they may have, are certainly not deficient in patriotism, and attachment to the religion and customs of their forefathers. The same delicacy of sentiment is displayed by a poet of their own country, in the 137th psalm, as it is finely translated by Buchanan: Dum procul a Patria mœsti Babylonis in oris, Fluminis ad liquidas forte sedemus aquas; Illa animum subiit species miseranda Sionis, Et numquam Patrii tecta videnda soli. ... O Solymæ, O adyta, et sacri penetralia templi Ullane vos animo deleat hora meo? &c. You may read the whole; you will perhaps find some poetical beauties which escaped your observation when you heard it sung in churches; but the poet’s ardour seems to glow too violently towards the end of the psalm. LETTER XLI. Rome.