We landed at Bacoli, a place which receives its name from the oxen brought by Hercules from Geryon, King of Spain. Bacoli in Greek (if I spell it right) signifies _ox stall_. Remains are shewn of a tomb of Agrippina, Nero’s mother, but antiquaries say it has a stronger resemblance to a theatre than to a sepulchre. We wandered amidst the Elysian fields, but saw no blessed souls. All my gloomy cogitations at the prospect of futurity, brought to my mind by the fiction of poets, vanished at the sight of present danger, and the lowering black clouds menaced a fierce storm. Nor was the threat in vain, for shortly it was followed by the severest thunder, lightning, rain, and hail I had ever witnessed. We crossed the Stygian Lake in the height of it, and Charon might have expected some passengers for his infernal wherry. We landed and dined upon the ruins of Misenum close to the port. It was from this spot Pliny the elder beheld the burst of smoke from the mountain, and even felt the cinders. What a magnificent but dreadful sight it must have been. Unfortunately curiosity impelled him to approach the yawning volcano; he endeavoured to land at Herculaneum, but was prevented by the smoke and ashes, he tried Pompeia, and from thence went to his friend Pomponius at Stabia, near which he was overwhelmed and suffocated by the cinders. Near Misenum Tiberius breathed out his gloomy soul. The next day we made an excursion into the country on horseback to see the Convent of the Camaldoli. Unfortunately the late hours of Devonshire House are transferred to the Chiaia, so we did not begin our expedition till six o’clock; when just as we arrived at the Convent the last fiery rays sank behind the promontory of Circe. What a view lay stretched at our feet! Objects that would rouse torpor itself, and call forth the energy of the poet, philosopher, painter, historian. The Campania Felix backed by the bold ridge of Apennines, with the Lake of Patria, Linternum, etc., the distant islands of Ponza and Ventotene, the nearer ones of Ischia and Procida, Baia, Misenum, Capri, and Cape Minerva. I cannot enumerate all the grand and pleasing objects. We exhausted the patience of two planets; the sun first shunned us, and then palefaced Cynthia left us, before we got home. I never in my life experienced the degree of happiness enjoyed: it was the gratification of mind and sense. The weather was delicious, truly Italian, the night serene, with just enough air to waft the fragrance of the orange flower, then in blossom. Through the leaves of the trees we caught glimpses of the trembling moonbeams on the glassy surface of the bay; all objects conspired to soothe my mind and the sensations I felt were those of ecstatic rapture. I was so happy that when I reached my bedroom, I dismissed my maid, and sat up the whole night looking from my window upon the sea.