mounds of earth, each tenanted by a dead friar with similar labels. When a friar dies, the oldest buried friar, or rather his skeleton, is taken up and promoted to a niche, and the newly defunct takes possession of his grave; and so they go on in succession. I was so struck by this strange sight that, when I came home at night, I ventured on the following description of it:-- _THE CATACOMBS IN THE CAPUCHIN CONVENT._ In yonder chapel's melancholy shade, Through which no wandering rays of daylight peep, In strange and awful cemetery laid, The ancient Fathers of the convent sleep. No storied marble with monastic pride Records the actions of their tranquil life, Or tells how, fighting for their faith, they died Unconquer'd martyrs of religious strife. They are not laid in decent shroud and pall, To wait, commingling with their kindred earth, Th' Archangel's trumpet, whose dread blast shall call The whole creation to a second birth. But midst the mouldering relics of the dead In shapes fantastic, which the brethren rear, Profaned by heretic's unhallowed tread, The monkish skeletons erect appear. The cowl is drawn each ghastly skull around, Each fleshless form's arrayed in sable vest, About their hollow loins the cord is bound, Like living Fathers of the Order drest. And as the monk around this scene of gloom The flick'ring lustre of his taper throws, He says, 'Such, stranger, is my destined tomb; Here, and with these, shall be my last repose.' At night I went with a party of English to see the Coliseum, but the moon was as English as the party, and gave a faint and feeble light. Still, with this dim moon it was inconceivably grand. The exquisite symmetry of the building appears better, and its vast dimensions are more developed by night. I long to see it with an Italian sky and full moon; but not with a parcel of chattering girls, who only 'flout the ruins grey.' [Page Head: THE HOLY WEEK AT ROME] April 9th, 1830 {p.315}