ut an hour
the breeze carried us well, while Ischia behind grew ever lovelier,
soft as velvet, shaped like a gem. The mist had become a great white
luminous cloud--not dense and alabastrine, like the clouds of
thunder; but filmy, tender, comparable to the atmosphere of Dante's
moon. Porpoises and sea-gulls played and fished about our bows,
dividing the dark brine in spray. The mountain distances were
drowned in bluish vapour--Vesuvius quite invisible. About noon the
air grew clearer, and Capri reared her fortalice of sculptured rock,
aerially azure, into liquid ether. I know not what effect of
atmosphere or light it is that lifts an island from the sea by
interposing that thin edge of lustrous white between it and the
water. But this phenomenon to-day was perfectly exhibited. Like a
mirage on the wilderness, like Fata Morgana's palace ascending from
the deep, the pure and noble vision stayed suspense 'twixt heaven
and ocean. At the same time the breeze failed, and we rowed slowly
between Procida and Capo Miseno--a space in old-world history
athrong with Caesar's navies. When we turned the point, and came in
sight of Baiae, the wind freshened and took us flying into Pozzuoli.
The whole of this coast has been spoiled by the recent upheaval of
Monte Nuovo with its lava floods and cindery deluges. Nothing
remains to justify its fame among the ancient Romans and the
Neapolitans of Boccaccio's and Pontano's age. It is quite wrecked,
beyond the power even of hendecasyllables to bring again its breath
of beauty:--

Mecum si sapies, Gravina, mecum
Baias, et placidos coles recessus,
Quos ipsae et veneres colunt, et illa
Quae mentes hominum regit voluptas.
Hic vina et choreae jocique regnant,
Regnant et charites facetiaeque.
Has sedes amor, has colit cupido.
His passim juvenes puellulaeque
Ludunt, et tepidis aquis lavantur,
Coenantque et dapibus leporibusque
Miscent delitias venustiores:
Miscent gaudia et osculationes,
Atque una sociis toris foventur,
Has te ad delitias vocant camoenae;
Invitat mare, myrteumque littus;
Invitant volueres canorae, et ipse
Gaurus pampineas parat corollas.[1]

[1] These verses are extracted from the second book of
Pontano's _Hendecasyllabi_ (Aldus, 1513, p. 208). They so
vividly paint the amusements of a watering-place in the
fifteenth century that I have translated them:--

With me, let but the mind be wise, Gravina,
With me h