When these were not at hand, the officers, springing on their barebacked horses, lasso on wrists, dashed full speed along the Campagna, till oxen, sheep, pigs, kids, or poultry in sufficient quantities were secured and paid for; then, dividing their spoil among the companies, officers and men fell to killing, quartering, and roasting before huge fires in the open air.

Before the summer of the year 1080 the citizens of Rome saw the forces of Henry in the Campagna.

"On the pleasant days there are the ruins to visit, the Campagna to stroll over, the villas and their grounds to gather flowers in, the Forum to muse in, the Pincian Hill or the Capitoline for a gossiping walk with some friend.

On the rug stood a long, shallow fruit-basket of the light wicker-work which is used in the Campagna, and this was heaped with a litter of objects, inscribed tiles, broken inscriptions, cracked mosaics, torn papyri, rusty metal ornaments, which to the uninitiated might have seemed to have come straight from a dustman's bin, but which a specialist would have speedily recognized as unique of their kind.

He had lit his lantern, and by its light they were enabled to follow a narrow and devious track which wound across the marshes of the Campagna.

The Roman peasantry generally go armed and those who feed cattle in the fields of the Campagna or have any labour to perform there never sleep there on account of the mal'aria.

Something to live on all one's days, the pines of the Borghesethe cypresses of the Villa Mediciroses cascading over the walls in Rome, the view across the Campagna from the terraces at Rocca di Papa" Sylvia thought rapidly to herself: "Austin said he did not want me to answer at once.

Accordingly the Duke of Alva, at the head of a powerful force, left Naples on the 1st of September and invaded the Campagna.

Again on the campagna near Rome.

I.] Here, of course, we stopped as short a time as possible; and then, bidding adieu to the sea, struck inland over the Campagna to Rome.

Nowhere is the contrast so instantaneous and vivid as here, between the silent, desolate Campagna and the splendor of St. Peter's, between the burrows of primitive Christianity and the gorgeousness of ecclesiastical Rome.

It was only the other day, at nightfall, that I was sauntering out on the desolate Campagna towards Civita Vecchia.

As we approached, its form gradually changed, until it stood on the Campagna "Like a long-swept wave about to break, That on the curl hangs pausing" and by that token of a great bard, I recognized Monte Soracte.

The dragoon took us by the arms, and away we scampered over the Campagna, with one of the loveliest sunsets before us, that ever painted itself on my retina.

In walking over the desolate Campagna, we saw many deep chambers dug in the earth, used by the charcoal burners; the air was filled with sulphureous exhalations, very offensive to the smell, which rose from the ground in many places.

As we approached the top, the Campagna spread far before and around us, level and blue as an ocean.

His pictures of the shepherd boy of the Albruzzi, and the brown maidens of the Campagna are fine illustrations of this class, and the fidelity with which he copies nature, is an earnest of his future success.

TIVOLI AND THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA.

We left the Eternal City by the Gate of San Lorenzo, and twenty minutes walk brought us to the bare and bleak Campagna, which was spread around us for leagues in every direction.

After passing the temple of Romulusa shapeless and ivy-grown ruinand walking a mile or more beyond the walls, we reached the Circus of Caracalla, whose long and shattered walls fill the hollow of one of the little dells of the Campagna.

"How lived, how loved, how died she?" I made a hurried drawing of it, and we then turned to the left, across the Campagna, to seek the grotto of Egeria.

The giant aqueduct stretched in a long line across the Campagna to the mountain of Albano, its broken and disjointed arches resembling the vertebræ of some mighty monster.

We have been walking all day over the bare and dreary Campagna, and it is a relief to look at last on the broad, blue expanse of the Tyrrhene Sea.

As the night wind blew directly down the play, sighing across the campagna, between Vesuvius and Castel à Mare, it became necessary to tack off-shore, as soon as le Feu-Follet got close to the cliffs where the obscurity was greatest, and her proportions and rig were not discernible at any distance.

Tansillo was likewise the author, both of a poem called Il Vendemmiatore, one of those obscene debauches of fancy which throw a lurid light on the luxurious imagination of the age, and of a didactic work, Il Podere, in which, as his editor somewhat naïvely remarks, 'ci rende amabile la campagna e l'agricoltura.'