IT was when the heats of noon died gradually away from the earth, that
Glaucus and Ione went forth to enjoy the cooled and grateful air. At
that time, various carriages were in use among the Romans; the one most
used by the richer citizens, when they required no companion in their
excursion, was the biga, already described in the early portion of this
work; that appropriated to the matrons, was termed carpentum, which had
commonly two wheels; the ancients used also a sort of litter, a vast
sedan-chair, more commodiously arranged than the modern, inasmuch as the
occupant thereof could lie down at ease, instead of being
perpendicularly and stiffly jostled up and down. There was another
carriage, used both for travelling and for excursions in the country; it
was commodious, containing three or four persons with ease, having a
covering which could be raised at pleasure; and, in short, answering
very much the purpose of (though very different in shape from) the
modern britska. It was a vehicle of this description that the lovers,
accompanied by one female slave of Ione, now used in their excursion.
About ten miles from the city, there was at that day an old ruin, the
remains of a temple, evidently Grecian; and as for Glaucus and Ione
everything Grecian possessed an interest, they had agreed to visit these
ruins: it was thither they were now bound.
Their road lay among vines and olive-groves; till, winding more and more
towards the higher ground of Vesuvius, the path grew rugged; the mules
moved slowly, and with labor; and at every opening in the wood they
beheld those grey and horrent caverns indenting the parched rock, which
Strabo has described; but which the various revolutions of time and the
volcano have removed from the present aspect of the mountain. The sun,
sloping towards his descent, cast long and deep shadows over the
mountain; here and there they still heard the rustic reed of the
shepherd amongst copses of the beechwood and wild oak. Sometimes they
marked the form of the silk-haired and graceful capella, with its
wreathing horn and bright grey eye--which, still beneath Ausonian skies,
recalls the eclogues of Maro, browsing half-way up the hills; and the
grapes, already purple with the smiles of the deepening summer, glowed
out from the arched festoons, which hung pendent from tree to tree.
Above them, light clouds floated in the serene heavens, sweeping so
slowly athwart the firmament that they scarcely seemed to stir; while,
on their right, they caught, ever and anon, glimpses of the waveless
sea, with some light bark skimming its surface; and the sunlight
breaking over the deep in those countless and softest hues so peculiar
to that delicious sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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