aste to the tranquil haunts of Baiae,
Haunts that pleasure hath made her home, and she who
Sways all hearts, the voluptuous Aphrodite.
Here wine rules, and the dance, and games and laughter;
Graces reign in a round of mirthful madness;
Love hath built, and desire, a palace here too,
Where glad youths and enamoured girls on all sides
Play and bathe in the waves in sunny weather,
Dine and sup, and the merry mirth of banquets
Blend with dearer delights and love's embraces,
Blend with pleasures of youth and honeyed kisses,
Till, sport-tired, in the couch inarmed they slumber.
Thee our Muses invite to these enjoyments;
Thee those billows allure, the myrtled seashore,
Birds allure with a song, and mighty Gaurus
Twines his redolent wreath of vines and ivy.

At Pozzuoli we dined in the Albergo del Ponte di Caligola (Heaven
save the mark!), and drank Falernian wine of modern and indifferent
vintage. Then Christian hired two open carriages for Naples. He and
I sat in the second. In the first we placed the two ladies of our
party. They had a large, fat driver. Just after we had all passed
the gate a big fellow rushed up, dragged the corpulent coachman from
his box, pulled out a knife, and made a savage thrust at the man's
stomach. At the same moment a _guardia-porta_, with drawn cutlass,
interposed and struck between the combatants. They were separated.
Their respective friends assembled in two jabbering crowds, and the
whole party, uttering vociferous objurgations, marched off, as I
imagined, to the watch-house. A very shabby lazzarone, without more
ado, sprang on the empty box, and we made haste for Naples. Being
only anxious to get there, and not at all curious about the squabble
which had deprived us of our fat driver, I relapsed into
indifference when I found that neither of the men to whose lot we
had fallen was desirous of explaining the affair. It was sufficient
cause for self-congratulation that no blood had been shed, and that
the Procuratore del Re would not require our evidence.

The Grotta di Posilippo was a sight of wonder, with the afternoon
sun slanting on its festoons of creeping plants above the western
entrance--the gas lamps, dust, huge carts, oxen, and _contadini_ in
its subterranean darkness--and then the sudden revelation of the bay
and city as we jingled out into the summery air again by Virgil's
tomb.

Night