In the solemn silence of the untrodden Apennines that rise around, the loud voices of the dogs echo from cliff to cliff boom down into the abyss, and rattle there like thunder.

O'er crag and cliff the father toil'd, Unconscious pass'd the hours: He for a time forgot the child He'd left among the flowers.

Tho' the bare earth be all our resting place, Its roots our food, some cliff our habitation, I'll make this arm a pillow for thy head, And as thou sighing ly'st, and swell'd with sorrow, Creep to thy bosom, pour the balm of love Into thy soul, and kiss thee to thy rest.

The bay is a bold and deep shore exposed to the open sea: from the banks or cliffs a clean gravel runs to the sea terminating in a hard sand, free from every mixture of ooze, and those offensive beds of mud, so frequently found at the mouths of rivers, and on many shores.

Others than I must describe how it swept from the amethyst cliff the shadow of the black one that opposed it, how that one shaft of sunlight pierced the amethyst for leagues, and how the rejoicing colour leaped up to welcome the light and shot back a purple glow on the walls of the palace of ivory while down in that incredible ravine the golden dragons still played in the darkness.