bros post
dominos ferre_."

The _arca degli orefici_ is a curious thing too, and worth observing:
the goldsmiths set it up in honour of Caracalla and Geta; but one
plainly discerns where poor Geta's head has been carried off in one
place, his figure broken in another, apparently by Caracalla's order.
The building is of itself of little consequence, but as a confirmation
of historical truth.

The fountains of Rome should have been spoken of long ago; the number of
them is known to all though, and of their magnificence words can give no
idea. One print of the Trevi is worth all the words of all the
describers together. Moses striking the rock, at another fountain, where
water in torrents tumble forth at the touch of the rod, has a glorious
effect, from the happiness of the thought, and an expression so suitable
to the subject. When I was told the story of Queen Christina admiring
the two prodigious fountains before St. Peter's church, and begging that
they might leave off playing, because she thought them occasional, and
in honour of her arrival, not constant and perpetual; who could help
recollecting a similar tale told about the Prince of Monaco, who was
said to have expressed his concern, when he saw the roads lighted up
round London, that our king should put himself to so great an expence on
his account--in good time!--thinking it a temporary illumination made to
receive him with distinguished splendour. These anecdotes are very
pretty now, if they are strictly true; because they shew the mind's
petty but natural disposition, of reducing and attributing all _to
self_: but if they are only inventions, to raise the reputation of
London lamps, or Roman cascades, one scorns them;--I really do hope, and
half believe, that they are true.

But I have been to see the two Auroras of Guido and Guercino. Villa
Ludovisi contains the last, of which I will speak first for forty
reasons--the true one because I like it best. It is so sensible, so
poetical, so beautiful. The light increases, and the figure advances to
the fancy: one expects Night to be waked before one looks at her again,
if ever one can be prevailed upon to take one's eyes away. The bat and
owl are going soon to rest, and the lamp burns more faintly as when day
begins to approach. The personification of Night is wonderfully hit off.
But Guercino is _such_ a painter! We were driving last night to look at
the Colisseo by moon-light--there were a few clouds just to b