Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna . day this is all by leaf, time has stripped the mighty tree ; and what remains is but a faint image offormer glories. But the landscape still shines in ever-youthful beauty, and the Italian sun brings 312 ITALY. yearly the self-same bloom of spring to these well-watered valleys, as smiled in the MiddleAges. Here glows the purple grape whose juice cheered and animated the knights ofold; and here the rose still blossoms amidst cypress and laurel. Genazzano seems to be asort of outpost of the Neapolitan paradise. The eye ranges over shrubs, vineyard
Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna . day this is all by leaf, time has stripped the mighty tree ; and what remains is but a faint image offormer glories. But the landscape still shines in ever-youthful beauty, and the Italian sun brings 312 ITALY. yearly the self-same bloom of spring to these well-watered valleys, as smiled in the MiddleAges. Here glows the purple grape whose juice cheered and animated the knights ofold; and here the rose still blossoms amidst cypress and laurel. Genazzano seems to be asort of outpost of the Neapolitan paradise. The eye ranges over shrubs, vineyards, andbeautiful groups of trees, to the mountains on the left, dominated by the proud pyramid ofMonte Serrone. Gloomy castles, and grey towns, crown the summits of most of the hills,or peep out from green valleys that run from Rome towards Campania. Yonder passedthe bold troops of the Hohenstaufens ; there the Frenchmen and the Spaniard spurredtheir chargers ; Franks marched by, Goths, Vandals! Now all is still, and Peace lies like. VILLA FALCONIERI, NEAR FRASCATI. a sleeping shepherdess upon the land. The air seems to vibrate with the sound of bellschiming the Ave Maria. We are in the headquarters of Madonna-worship. Here inGenazzano is her miracle-working picture, which was once, according to Catholictradition, carried by angel hands from Albania, and borne through the air high aboveland and sea to Genazzano. A church was built for it, and its fame soon spread throughall the hills and vales of Latium and Campania. The poor shepherd of the plain, thedweller amid Neapolitan mountains, the fever-stricken wretch from the Pontine Marshes,the Marsic people of Avezzano,—all, all make a pilgrimage at least once in their lives tothis Romish Mecca, to beg for a favourable oracle, and to lay their confessions at the feetof the Madonna del bnon consiglio. They come in crowds :—tottering, whitehaired oldmen, powerful fellows in the prime of life, brigand-like swaggerers, women and gir
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Keywords: ., bookauthorcavagnasangiulianidig, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870
