Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna . ssed,And thickly rustled the leaves beside the living was the tendrilled dwelling, whence at hot noon SylvanusWith sweetest fluted notes, summoned the herds to drink.—Propertius. And we enter this shady tendrilled dwelling if we take the woodland path downto Nemi. The wild, fresh Flora of the mountains has adorned these slopes with thegayest of flowers. With the exception of the purple blossoming cyclamen, nearly all the SHORES OF LA GO FUCINO TO THE PONTINE MARSHES. 327 plants we meet with are found on our northern soil ; but here they seem boun
Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna . ssed,And thickly rustled the leaves beside the living was the tendrilled dwelling, whence at hot noon SylvanusWith sweetest fluted notes, summoned the herds to drink.—Propertius. And we enter this shady tendrilled dwelling if we take the woodland path downto Nemi. The wild, fresh Flora of the mountains has adorned these slopes with thegayest of flowers. With the exception of the purple blossoming cyclamen, nearly all the SHORES OF LA GO FUCINO TO THE PONTINE MARSHES. 327 plants we meet with are found on our northern soil ; but here they seem bound to nospecial season, and the fortunate conditions of the soil, combined with the southern sky,make them more rich, abundant, and perfect. The wood is chiefly composed of Spanishchestnuts, oaks, and beeches, with an undergrowth of gigantic ferns, above which rise thebranches of blackberry and raspberry bushes mixed with the wild rose. Amongst allthese bloom bluebells, primroses, the white and red Scabiosa, convolvulus, dark-blue. NINFA, WITH NORMA. gentians, foxgloves, and a profusion of strawberries. Ground ivy grows in the shade, andsoft velvety moss near the trickling streamlets. The gay woodpecker, the enchantedK ings son, loves to haunt these woods. Circe, seeking herbs, met him here, and invengeance for despised love, transformed him to this shape. He, in rage to find that sudden through Latiums woodsHe wanders, a winged fowl, now hacks with his horny bill,Wounding the rising boughs, and striking the trees in his fury.—OVID. But singers, also, dwell in these hidden haunts ; and blackbirds, thrushes, and nightingalesanimate the solitude of the legend-laden hills with their sweet songs. On quitting the wood, you find yourself at the edge of the height immediately over- 32S ITALY. looking the Lake of Nemi. What an enchanting prospect! In the foreground the roofsand the church of the remote and decaying lake townlet, where the grape-vines climbfrom house to house ; benea
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