ut with two English friends, to see it by sunset. Passing by the
glorious fountain of Trevi, we made our way to the Forum, and from
thence took the road to the Coliseum, lined on both sides with the
remains of splendid edifices. The grass-grown ruins of the Palace of the
Caesars stretched along on our right; on our left we passed in succession
the granite front of the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, the three
grand arches of the Temple of Peace and the ruins of the Temple of Venus
and Rome. We went under the ruined triumphal arch of Titus, with broken
friezes representing the taking of Jerusalem, and the mighty walls of
the Coliseum gradually rose before us. They grew in grandeur as we
approached them, and when at length we stood in the centre, with the
shattered arches and grassy walls rising above and beyond one another,
far around us, the red light of sunset giving them a soft and melancholy
beauty, I was fain to confess that another form of grandeur had entered
my mind, of which I before knew not.

A majesty like that of nature clothes this wonderful edifice. Walls rise
above walls, and arches above arches, from every side of the grand
arena, like a sweep of craggy, pinnacled mountains around an oval lake.
The two outer circles have almost entirely disappeared, torn away by the
rapacious nobles of Rome, during the middle ages, to build their
palaces. When entire, and filled with its hundred thousand spectators,
it must have exceeded any pageant which the world can now produce. No
wonder it was said--

"While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
And when Rome falls, the world!"

--a prediction, which time has not verified. The world is now going
forward, prouder than ever, and though we thank Rome for the legacy she
has left us, we would not wish the dust of her ruin to cumber our path.

While standing in the arena, impressed with the spirit of the scene
around me, which grew more spectral and melancholy as the dusk of
evening began to fill up the broken arches, my eye was assailed by the
shrines ranged around the space, doubtless to remove the pollution of
paganism. In the middle stands also a cross, with an inscription,
granting an absolution of forty days to all who kiss it. Now, although a
simple cross in the centre might be very appropriate, both as a token of
the heroic devotion of the martyr Telemachus and the triumph of a true
religion over the bar