The Prose Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Vol. 2 [of 2]Shelley, Percy Bysshe
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The Prose Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Vol. 2 [of 2]
Shelley, Percy Bysshe
English prose literature
But the most interesting effect remains. In one of the buttresses,
that supports an immense and lofty arch, which “bridges the very winds
of heaven,” are the crumbling remains of an antique winding staircase,
whose sides are open in many places to the precipice. This you ascend,
and arrive on the summit of these piles. There grow on every side thick
entangled wildernesses of myrtle, and the myrletus, and bay, and the
flowering laurustinus, whose white blossoms are just developed, the
wild fig, and a thousand nameless plants sown by the wandering winds.
These woods are intersected on every side by paths, like sheep tracks
through the copse-wood of steep mountains, which wind to every part of
the immense labyrinth. From the midst rise those pinnacles and masses,
themselves like mountains, which have been seen from below. In one
place you wind along a narrow strip of weed-grown ruin, on one side
is the immensity of earth and sky, on the other a narrow chasm, which
is bounded by an arch of enormous size, fringed by the many-coloured
foliage and blossoms, and supporting a lofty and irregular pyramid,
overgrown like itself with the all-prevailing vegetation. Around
rise other crags and other peaks, all arrayed, and the deformity of
their vast desolation softened down, by the undecaying investiture of
nature. Come to Rome. It is a scene by which expression is overpowered;
which words cannot convey. Still further, winding up one-half of the
shattered pyramids, by the path through the blooming copse-wood, you
come to a little mossy lawn, surrounded by the wild shrubs; it is
overgrown with anemones, wall-flowers, and violets, whose stalks pierce
the starry moss, and with radiant blue flowers, whose names I know not,
and which scatter through the air the divinest odour, which, as you
recline under the shade of the ruin, produces sensations of voluptuous
faintness, like the combinations of sweet music. The paths still wind
on, threading the perplexed windings, other labyrinths, other lawns,
and deep dells of wood, and lofty rocks, and terrific chasms. When I
tell you that these ruins cover several acres, and that the paths above
penetrate at least half their extent, your imagination will fill up all
that I am unable to express of this astonishing scene.
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