ted up
anew with that sweet and tender joy which it was accustomed to express.

Cestius presided over the Roman games. His name is not to be found in
history; but it is rendered illustrious by his tomb. The massive pyramid
which encloses his ashes, defends his death from that oblivion which has
entirely effaced his life. Aurelian, fearing that this pyramid might be
employed as a fortress to attack Rome, has caused it to be enclosed
within the walls which are yet standing, not as useless ruins, but as
the actual enclosure of the modern city. It is said that the form of
the pyramid is in imitation of the flame which ascends from a funeral
pyre. It is certain that this mysterious form attracts the eye and gives
a picturesque aspect to every perspective of which it forms a part.
Opposite this pyramid is Mount Testaceo, under which there are extremely
cool grottos where feasts are given in summer. The festivals of Rome are
not disturbed at the sight of tombs. The pines and the cypresses which
are perceived at various distances in the smiling country of Italy, are
also pregnant with solemn remembrances; and this contrast produces the
same effect as the verses of Horace,

----moriture Delli
------------------------------------------
Linquenda tellus, et domus, et placens
Uxor,[18]

in the midst of poetry consecrated to every enjoyment upon earth. The
ancients have always felt that the idea of death has its pleasures: it
is recalled by love and by festivals, and the most lively emotion of joy
seems to increase even from the idea of the shortness of life.

Corinne and Nelville returned from the walk among the tombs, along the
banks of the Tiber.--Once it was covered with vessels and bordered with
palaces; once even its inundations were regarded as presages; it was the
prophetic river, the tutelary Deity of Rome[19]. At present, one would
say that it rolled its tide through a land of shadows; so solitary does
it seem, so livid do its waters appear. The finest monuments of the
arts, the most admirable statues have been thrown into the Tiber, and
are concealed beneath its waves. Who knows whether, in order to find
them, the river will not one day be turned from its bed? But when we
think that the masterpieces of human genius are perhaps there before
us, and that a more piercing eye would behold them through the waves--we
feel that indescribable emotion which incessantly arises at Rome