ving far, as
with outstretched arms, into the green and beautiful land, it seemed
unconsciously to clasp to its breast the cities sloping to its
margin--Stabiae, and Herculaneum, and Pompeii--those children and
darlings of the deep. 'Ye slumber,' said the Egyptian, as he scowled
over the cities, the boast and flower of Campania; 'ye slumber!--would
it were the eternal repose of death! As ye now--jewels in the crown of
empire--so once were the cities of the Nile! Their greatness hath
perished from them, they sleep amidst ruins, their palaces and their
shrines are tombs, the serpent coils in the grass of their streets, the
lizard basks in their solitary halls. By that mysterious law of Nature,
which humbles one to exalt the other, ye have thriven upon their ruins;
thou, haughty Rome, hast usurped the glories of Sesostris and
Semiramis--thou art a robber, clothing thyself with their spoils! And
these--slaves in thy triumph--that I (the last son of forgotten
monarchs) survey below, reservoirs of thine all-pervading power and
luxury, I curse as I behold! The time shall come when Egypt shall be
avenged! when the barbarian's steed shall make his manger in the Golden
House of Nero! and thou that hast sown the wind with conquest shalt reap
the harvest in the whirlwind of desolation!'

As the Egyptian uttered a prediction which fate so fearfully fulfilled,
a more solemn and boding image of ill omen never occurred to the dreams
of painter or of poet. The morning light, which can pale so wanly even
the young cheek of beauty, gave his majestic and stately features almost
the colors of the grave, with the dark hair falling massively around
them, and the dark robes flowing long and loose, and the arm
outstretched from that lofty eminence, and the glittering eyes, fierce
with a savage gladness--half prophet and half fiend!

He turned his gaze from the city and the ocean; before him lay the
vineyards and meadows of the rich Campania. The gate and walls--ancient,
half Pelasgic--of the city, seemed not to bound its extent. Villas and
villages stretched on every side up the ascent of Vesuvius, not nearly
then so steep or so lofty as at present. For, as Rome itself is built
on an exhausted volcano, so in similar security the inhabitants of the
South tenanted the green and vine-clad places around a volcano whose
fires they believed at rest for ever. From the gate stretched the long
street of tombs, various in size and architecture,