At the base of the mountain of Fiesole we passed one of the summer palaces of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and a little distance beyond, took a foot-path overshadowed by magnificent cypresses, between whose dark trunks we looked down on the lovely Val d’Arno.  But I will reserve all description of the view till we arrive at the summit.

The modern village of Fiesole occupies the site of an ancient city, generally supposed to be of Etrurian origin.  Just above, on one of the peaks of the mountain, stands the Acropolis, formerly used as a fortress, but now untenanted save by a few monks.  From the side of its walls, beneath the shade of a few cypresses, there is a magnificent view of the whole of Val d’Arno, with Florence—­the gem of Italy—­in the centre.  Stand with me a moment on the height, and let us gaze on this grand panorama, around which the Apennines stretch with a majestic sweep, wrapped in a robe of purple air, through which shimmer the villas and villages on their sides!  The lovely vale lies below us in its garb of olive groves, among which beautiful villas are sprinkled as plentifully as white anemones in the woods of May.  Florence lies in front of us, the magnificent cupola of the Duomo crowning its clustered palaces.  We see the airy tower of the Palazzo Vecchio—­the new spire of Santa Croce—­and the long front of the Palazzo Pitti, with the dark foliage of the Boboli Gardens behind.  Beyond, far to the south, are the summits of the mountains near Siena.  We can trace the sandy bed of the Arno down the valley till it disappears at the foot of the Lower Apennines, which mingle in the distance with the mountains of Carrara.

Galileo was wont to make observations “at evening from the top of Fiesole,” and the square tower of the old church is still pointed out as the spot.  Many a night did he ascend to its projecting terrace, and watch the stars as they rolled around through the clearest heaven to which a philosopher ever looked up.

We passed through an orchard of fig trees, and vines laden with beautiful purple and golden clusters, and in a few minutes reached the remains of an amphitheatre, in a little nook on the mountain side.  This was a work of Roman construction, as its form indicates.  Three or four ranges of seats alone, are laid bare, and these have only been discovered within a few years.  A few steps further we came to a sort of cavern, overhung with wild fig-trees.  After creeping in at the entrance, we found ourselves in an oval chamber, tall enough to admit of our standing upright, and rudely but very strongly built.  This was one of the dens in which the wild beasts were kept; they were fed by a hole in the top, now closed up.  This cell communicates with four or five others, by apertures broken in the walls.  I stepped into one, and could see in the dim light, that it was exactly similar to the first, and opened into another beyond.