its face of light
Against the pallid olives that between
Throng up the hill. Look down this vista's shade
Of dark square-shaven ilexes where sports
The fountain's, thin white thread and blows away.
And mark! along the terraced balustrade
Two contadini stopping in the shade
With copper vases poised upon their heads,
How their red jackets tell against the green!
Old, all is old,--what charm there is in age!
Do you believe this villa when 'twas new
Was half so beautiful as now it seems?
Look at these balustrades of travertine--
Had they the charm when fresh and shapely carved
As now that they are stained and graved with time
And mossed with lichens, every grim old mask
That grins upon their pillars bearded o'er
With waving sprays of slender maidenhair?
Ah, no! I cannot think it; things of art
Snatch nature's graces from the hand of Time."

But it is the view afforded by the double arcade of loggias and by every
window of the palace facade which was the crowning glory of the villa.
The amethystine Sabine Hills and the immense Campagna encircle the
Eternal City, from whose mists the dome of Saint Peter's seems to rise a
buoyant, iridescent bubble.

It was Pirro Ligorio (architect also of the exquisite Villa Pia) who in
1545 accomplished the miracle of converting the savage cliff into a
staircase of enchantment. Nature had given the villa its marvellous site
and genius availed itself of all the resources of art and wealth to
effect the wonder.

Cardinal Ippolito's orders to Ligorio were: "Surpass the work of Vignola
in the villas of Caprarola and Lante. Restore the glory of Tivoli in the
Augustan age."

[Illustration: Hydraulic Organ, Villa d'Este.]

Excavations in the neighbourhood were daily bringing to light
masterpieces of classical sculpture, and for the "statues which whiten
the shadow" of Villa d'Este, Ligorio was given carte blanche to despoil
the gardens of Hadrian's palace. To-day only a long procession of broken
pedestals bears witness to statues of emperors, gods, and goddesses long
since removed to different museums.

The exodus began immediately upon the succession of Ippolito's nephew,
Cardinal Luigi d'Este, who came to his inheritance deeply in debt; but
that spendthrift prelate retained sixty statues, some of which are seen
in the etching made by Piranesi, and it was not until 1745 that these
were purchased by Cardinal A