them; the walls and marble pillars of the monastery are covered with green mould; the grass grows between the stones of the pavement; the bats fly round about the cupola. We dash through the open cloister gates, right into the church, and there pull up! You should see how the lady we are drawing is horrified into a marble statue! You should hear our chapel-master singing here! his voice is beautiful; he sings hymns on account of his preservation, and the two poets will tell the whole world of their life-emperilled adventures in the Pontine Marshes.
The Post-horses.—Take care you don’t get a taste of the lash! Do keep the middle of the road! We shall soon be in Terracina, where we shall rest; and on the frontiers we shall rest; and at the Custom-house we shall rest. That is the best thing in the whole journey.
Pegasus.—The sunlight falls on the yellow-red cliffs; the marshes lie behind us. Three tall palm trees stand close by the road; we are in Terracina. What is become of our company? One of them ascends the rocks between tall cactuses; on each side are
