gave its own epithet to wines celebrated in _longs and shorts_ of
immortal celebrity, whereas the land round Rome could never have been
viniferous. You may still drink _Falernian_, if so minded, on its
native seat of St Agatha. The wine of _Gaurus_ has not deserted Monte
Babaro, and _Lachryma_, though not classical, has its own celebrity;
and the islands of Ischia and Procida also produce a strong, heating,
white wine. But there is not any wine, from the Alps to Messina, to be
compared to those of the _Garonne_, and the _Rhine_, or the _Moselle_.
The _Barbarians_ subdued by the Roman legions have long had it all
their own way, not only in this, but in every other good thing _except
sunshine_; but the vine, growing as it grows, suspended as it is
suspended, and wreathed round the hills of Italy, is still the _plant_
which secures the loudest admiration of the foreigner. "The vine of
Italy for ever!"--so we join the chorus of all travellers, and
say-"_till_ it lies bruised, bleeding, fermenting in the vat! _then_
commend us to the Bacchus of lands far nearer home." And here, feeling
ourselves called upon for a _song_, we will sing one.

A VINTAGE SONG.

ABRIDGED FROM BERANGER.

"Amidst the Celtic hordes of old
That gather'd round his wayworn band,
The cumbrous booty to behold
Brought from Ausonia's sunny land,
Thus _Brennus_ spake--'This lance of mine
Bears Rome's best gift--Behold--the Vine!
Plant, plant the Vine, to whose fair reign belong
The arts of Peace, and all the realms of Song!

"'They told us of its wondrous juice;
We fought to taste it, and have won!
Now o'er your hills new wealth diffuse
And cherish well the warrior's boon.
Plant, plant the Vine, &c.

"'Nor for ourselves alone we tore
That stem away; your ships shall bear
The freighted joy to many a shore,
And spread the unknown gladness there.
Plant, plant the Vine, &c.'

"He ended, and in face of all,
While deep in earth he strikes the lance
And plants the shoot--_unconscious Gaul
Prepares the world's vast vineyard--France!_"[9]

THE PALACE OF CASERTA.

About thirteen miles from Naples is one of the finest kingly
residences in Europe--so say all the guide-books, and they are right.
Vanvitelli is the very Michael Angelo of palace-rearing! Its shape is
a parallelogram approaching to a square. Counting mezzanines, it has
si