rich in the countless allurements of a landscape that—
"Like Albunea's echoing fountain.
All my inmost heart hath ta'en;
Give me Anio's headlong torrent,
And Tiburniis' grove and hills,
And its orchards sparkling devey,
With a thousand wimpling rills,"
as Theodore Martin translates his Horace, or thus, according to Lord Ravensworth—
"Like fair Albunea's sybil-haunted hall,
By rocky Anio's echoing waterfall,
And Tibur's orchards and high-hanging wood,
Reflected graceful in the whirling flood."
His lordship, you observe, who can himself write Latin lyrics as though he had drunk with Augustus, and capped verses with Ovid, makes the second syllable of Albunea long, and a very diffuse argument might be held on this disputed quantity. Compare these with the original, and say which you like best—
