From Formiae the party went to Capua. In this important and luxurious city Tiberius dedicated the temple to Jupiter. From there, with his followers, he went to Nola. In this town, where the death of Augustus had occurred, Tiberius dedicated a temple to his illustrious predecessor. During the journey from Nola to Neapolis the emperor again became sullen and ill-humored. An officer whose duty it was to precede the party neglected to remove a small branch of a tree that projected over the road. This negligence so enraged Tiberius that he commanded the party to halt. Then, ordering the officer to be stripped and beaten, he compelled the party to watch the brutal punishment for this trivial offence. Silenced by fear and by the emperor’s displeasure, the party then quickly moved towards Neapolis. When they embarked for Capri, the bay of Neapolis was as calm and innocent as a sleeping child. The crystal air seemed alive with light. Sharply outlined against the clear deep-blue sky were the edges of the hills that nearly surround that magic circle. The abrupt cliffs of Surrentum, the peaceful slopes around Sabia, the gentle sweep of the land between Vesuvius and Neapolis, and the bold, volcanic islands of Procida and Ischia, were gently kissed by the transparent waters of that glorious bay. Between the promontories of Surrentum and Ischia, Capri, with its profile of a human face, appeared like a huge dark sapphire on the bosom of the sea. In the bay floated little sprigs of sea-weed, purple fucus, like ravellings from kingly robes, sea-grass and leaves, like waving hair and green roses, watery flowers, as soft as feathery plumes or lashes of dreaming eyes. Under the surface were little sea-horses, swarms of tiny fish that moved among branches of fleshy coral like humming-birds among branches of small blossoming trees. Medusae, living vacuities, trembled and floated like transparent lilies detached from their stems and imbued with life and motion. Ah! the bay of Neapolis appeared like a huge flower-garden, flooded with sparkling dew. Circling the peaceful garden and crowning the hill-tops and slopes, like an immortal wreath, were the orange and olive groves of Surrentum, the laurels and myrtle of Sabia, the vineyards and fields of Vesuvius--that colossal verdant bell of spring--the pines and cypresses of Neapolis, and the vineyards of Procida, Ischia, and Capri. It seemed as if Nature were intoxicated with beauty. It seemed as if celestial harmonies, borne on the rays of light, touched the ears with an infinite melody.