[16] _Spec._, 123a; 2 Cel., 3, 58. [17] I have combined Celano's narrative with that of the Conformities. The details given in the latter document appear to me entirely worthy of faith. It is easy to see, however, why Celano omitted them, and it would be difficult to explain how they could have been later invented. 2 Cel., 3, 138; _Conform._, 42b, 2; 119b, 1; 184b, 2; 239a, 2; _Spec._, 123a ff.; _Fior._, 19. [18] After the Assisan MS., 338, f^o 33a. Vide p. 354. Father Panfilo da Magliano has already published it after this manuscript: _Storia compendiosa di San Francesco_, Rome, 2 vols., 18mo, 1874-1876. The Conformities, 202b, 2-203a 1, give a version of it which differs from this only by insignificant variations. The learned philologue Monaci has established a very remarkable critical text in his _Crestomazia italiana dei primi secoli_. Citta di Castello, fas. i., 1889, 8vo, pp. 29-31. This thoroughly scrupulous work dispenses me from indicating manuscripts and editions more at length. [19] Matthew Arnold, Essays in Criticism, First Series. Macmillan & Company, 1883. [20] 2 Cel., 3, 58; _Spec._, 123a. [21] _Spec._, 124a. Cf. _Miscellanea_ (1889), iv., p. 88. * * * * * CHAPTER XIX THE LAST YEAR September, 1225-End of September, 1226 What did Ugolini think when they told him that Francis was planning to send his friars, transformed into _Joculatores Domini_, to sing up and down the country the Canticle of Brother Sun? Perhaps he never heard of it. His _protege_ finally decided to accept his invitation and left St. Damian in the course of the month of September. The landscape which lies before the eyes of the traveller from Assisi, when he suddenly emerges upon the plain of Rieti, is one of the most beautiful in Europe. From Terni the road follows the sinuous course of the Velino, passes not far from the famous cascades, whose clouds of mist are visible, and then plunges into the defiles in whose depths the torrent rushes noisily, choked by a vegetation as luxuriant as that of a virgin forest. On all sides uprise walls of perpendicular rocks, and on their crests, several hundred yards above your head, are feudal fortresses, among others the Castle of Miranda, more giddy, more fantastic than any which Gustave Dore's fancy ever dreamed. After four hours of walking, the defile opens out and you find yourself without transition in a broad valley, sparkling with light. Rieti, the only city in this plain of several leagues, appears far away at the other extremity, commanded by hills of a thoroughly tropical aspect, behind which rise the mighty Apennines, almost always covered with snow.