impetuous waters! 
  Tivoli’s waters and rocks; and fair under Monte Gennaro,
  (Haunt even yet, I must think, as I wonder and gaze, of the shadows,
  Faded and pale, yet immortal, of Faunus, the Nymphs, and the Graces,)
  Fair in itself, and yet fairer with human completing creations,
  Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace:—­
  So not seeing I sung; so now,—­nor seeing, nor hearing,
  Neither by waterfall lulled, nor folded in sylvan embraces,
  Neither by cell of the Sibyl, nor stepping the Monte Gennaro,
  Seated on Anio’s bank, nor sipping Bandusian waters,
  But on Montorio’s height, looking down on the tile-clad streets, the
  Cupolas, crosses, and domes, the bushes and kitchen-gardens,
  Which, by the grace of the Tiber, proclaim themselves Rome of the
       Romans,—­
  But on Montorio’s height, looking forth to the vapory mountains,
  Cheating the prisoner Hope with illusions of vision and fancy,—­
  But on Montorio’s height, with these weary soldiers by me,
  Waiting till Oudinot enter, to reinstate Pope and Tourist.

[Footnote A: 

  ——­domus Albuneae resonantis,
  Et praeceps Anio, et Tiburni lucus, et uda
    Mobilibus pomaria rivis.]

  XII.—­MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER.

  Dear Miss Roper,—­It seems, George Vernon, before we left Rome, said
  Something to Mr. Claude about what they call his attentions. 
  Susan, two nights ago, for the first time, heard this from Georgina. 
  It is so disagreeable, and so annoying, to think of! 
  If it could only be known, though we never may meet him again, that
  It was all George’s doing and we were entirely unconscious,
  It would extremely relieve—­Your ever affectionate Mary.

  P.S. (1). 
    Here is your letter arrived this moment, just as I wanted. 
  So you have seen him,—­indeed,—­and guessed,—­how dreadfully clever! 
  What did he really say? and what was your answer exactly? 
  Charming!—­but wait for a moment, I have not read through the letter.

  P.S. (2). 
    Ah, my dearest Miss Roper, do just as you fancy about it. 
  If you think it sincerer to tell him I know of it, do so. 
  Though I should most extremely dislike it, I know I could manage. 
  It is the simplest thing, but surely wholly uncalled for. 
  Do as you please; you know I trust implicitly to you. 
  Say whatever is right and needful for ending the matter. 
  Only don’t tell Mr. Claude, what I will tell you as a secret,
  That I should like very well to show him myself I forget it.

  P.S. (3). 
    I am to say that the wedding is finally settled for Tuesday. 
  Ah, my dear Miss Roper, you surely, surely can manage
  Not to let it appear that I know of that odious matter. 
  It would be pleasanter far for myself to treat it exactly
  As if it had not occurred; and I do not