‘Tibur is beautiful too, and the orchard slopes, and the Anio Falling, falling yet, to the ancient lyrical cadence; Tibur and Anio’s tide; and cool from Lucretilis ever, With the Digentian stream, and with the Bandusian fountain, Folded in Sabine recesses, the valley and villa of Horace:— So not seeing I sung; so seeing and listening say I, Here as I sit by the stream, as I gaze at the cell of the Sibyl, Here with Albunea’s home and the grove of Tiburnus beside me;[15] Tivoli beautiful is, and musical, O Teverone, Dashing from mountain to plain, thy parted impetuous waters! Tivoli’s waters and rocks; and fair under Monte Gennaro, (Haunt even yet, I must think, as I wander and gaze, of the shadows, Faded and pale, yet immortal, of Faunus, the Nymphs, and the Graces,) Fair in itself, and yet fairer with human completing creations, Folded in Sabine recesses, the valley and villa of Horace:— So not seeing I sung; so now—Nor seeing, nor hearing, Neither by waterfall lulled, nor folded in sylvan embraces, Neither by cell of the Sibyl, nor stepping the Monte Gennaro, Seated on Anio’s bank, nor sipping Bandusian waters, But on Montorio’s height, looking down on the tile-clad streets, the Cupolas, crosses, and domes, the bushes and kitchen-gardens, Which, by the grace of the Tibur, proclaim themselves Rome of the Roman,— But on Montorio’s height, looking forth to the vapoury mountains, Cheating the prisoner Hope with illusions of vision and fancy,— But on Montorio’s height, with these weary soldiers by me, Waiting till Oudinot enter, to reinstate Pope and Tourist. ... Yes, on Montorio’s height for a last farewell of the city,— So it appears; though then I was quite uncertain about it. So, however, it was. And now to explain the proceeding. I was to go, as I told you, I think, with the people to Florence. Only the day before, the foolish family Vernon Made some uneasy remarks, as we walked to our lodging together, As to intentions, forsooth, and so forth. I was astounded, Horrified quite; and obtaining just then, as it happened, an offer (No common favour) of seeing the great Ludovisi collection, Why, I made this a pretence, and wrote that they must excuse me. How could I go? Great Heavens! to conduct a permitted flirtation. Under those vulgar eyes, the observed of such observers! Well, but I now, by a series of fine diplomatic inquiries, Find from a sort of relation, a good and sensible woman, Who is remaining at Rome with a brother too ill for removal, That it was wholly unsanctioned, unknown,—not, I think, by Georgina: She, however, ere this,—and that is the best of the story,— She and the Vernon, thank Heaven, are wedded and gone—honeymooning. So—on Montorio’s height for a last farewell of the city. Tibur I have not seen, nor the lakes that of old I had dreamt of; Tibur I shall not see, nor Anio’s waters, nor deep en-