Page:A Picture-book without Pictures and Other Stories (1848).djvu/155

 gardens full of lemon and orange trees, every branch of which bends under the load of yellow, glittering fruit. He climbs the ruins of Theodoricksburg; from there he looks over the marshes to the north, and his heart sings—

But the other poet sits down below by the sea; yes, out there, by the sea, upon a huge mass of rock. He wets his lips with salt water, and says with exultation, “Thou heaving, wind-lulled sea! Thou embracest, like me, the whole world; she is thy bride; she is thy nurse. Thou singest of her in the storm! In thy repose thou dreamest of heaven! Thou bright, transparent sea!”

The Post-horses.—Of a truth those were capital oats we had in Terracina. It was a good road there also; and we stopped such a charming long time in Fondi. See! now again it goes up-hill. Of what good are the hills? First up and then down again! A fine pleasure that is.