fully to the feelings, and when tinged by the silvery beams of the orb of night, its effect is truly sublime. "A ruin-yet what ruin! from its mass And marvel where the spoil could have appear'd. When the colossal fabric's form is near'd; It will not bear the brightness of the day, Which streams too much on all years, man, have reft away. But when the rising moon begins to climb When the stars twinkle through the loops of time, Heroes have trod this spot-'tis on their dust ye tread." Byron has afforded a better notion of the Coliseum, in his exquisite lines on it in the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, than all who have written on it, before or since. He gives us the reflections of it, in the mirror of his own mind, so powerfully, so beautifully depicted, that no one acquainted with our language, or capable of appreciating our poetry, can ever visit the Coliseum without remembering the verses, and feeling their truth. When we ascended to the gallery, and looked down on the arena, the moonbeans were clothing in silvery radiance one of the votive altars erected in the interior; and the large cross which crowned it was invested with a lustre that rendered it a conspicuous object, and added much to the effect of the picture. Each individual of our party seemed impressed with the magic of the scene, and the few words spoken were uttered in whispers; as if we feared to disturb the holy calm of the place, or to awaken a profane echo in such a spot. To how many reflections did this visit give birth! each and all pregnant with associations of the past. The events of by-gone ages seemed unrolled before my mental vision; and there stood the cross, blessed symbol of faith! bright with the moonbeams playing over its surface, to draw the mind from gloomy cogitations of the past, to anticipations of a more cheering future. The poor monk, who guards the altars of the Coliseum, profited by the frame of mind induced by the place. His appeal to our charity was a speechless, but an irresistible one. He bowed his head on his breast, and timidly held forth a plate for our offerings; and when they were made, looked up to the heavens, as if invoking the benediction his lips did not utter. He seemed, like us, to feel the influence of the scene, and to fear to break its solemnity; and our benefaction was, perhaps, more liberal on that account. Rome is so deserted at this season, owing to the wellfounded dread of malaria, that few strangers are to be met in its solitary streets. The Duchess of Devonshire is one of the few, and is said to be superintending some excavations which the papal government have permitted her to undertake. She is much beloved and respected here; and expends large sums of money in bringing to light treasures of antiquity that, without her enterprising spirit and means of indulging it, might remain buried in oblivion. 8th.-St. Peter's. This is indeed a temple worthy of the Divinity. Its vastness, its grandeur, and, above all, the exquisite beauty of its proportions, strike the senses with so profound an admiration, that the sentiment engendered by the first view is one of a deeply religious nature. The sun was streaming beautifully through the gold-tinted glass of the Tribuna when we entered; and, as its beams fell on many a gorgeous picture in mosaic, which glittered beneath them with prismatic hues, and on masses of marble and gilding, giving to them a new splendor, the whole edifice looked as if illuminated by the glorious orb of day, to do honor to the Most High. No individual of our party uttered a single exclamation, though the heart of each was filled with wonder and admiration, and the imagination, that most insatiable of all the mental organs, was fully satisfied; nay, more-its highest anticipations were realised. To examine any portion of this splendid temple en détail, at the first visit to it, would be impossible, for any one who passionately admires the glorious effect produced by the ensemble. The eyes drink in the wondrous coup d'œil, and the mind luxuriates in the delicious draught. The contrast, too, between this magnificent fane, glowing in all its pristine grandeur, and the wrecks of former ages with which Rome is filled, adds to the wonder and admiration with which it is beheld. The Coliseum appeals to the memory, and to the heart; but St. Peter's addresses itself to the imagination, which it excites and elevates almost to ebriety. Though the church was nearly empty, and the few in it were occupied in examining its pictures and monuments, it required little exertion of fancy to people it with processions of white-stoled and golden-vestured priests, leading along the tiara'd pope, with flowing robes; while gold and silver censers flung high the incense offered up before him. The pealing organ seemed to send forth its swelling notes, which were echoed through the lofty dome, and unnumbered voices sang choral hymns, which at intervals burst into loud and triumphal hosannahs, and then sank into low and plaintive sounds. There was magic in the scene, and in the imaginings it called up. Nor did its influence subside until I found myself standing in the court of the church, in front of the obelisk; and saw the fountains throwing up their silvery showers, to which the sunshine lent the brightest rainbow dyes, and heard the crystal waters falling into the granite basin with a gentle murmur, which alone broke the silence that reigned around. 9th.-Spent many hours in the Museum of the Vatican to-day-what inexhaustible treasures of art does it enshrine! The mind becomes confused and agitated at behloding, for the first time, the wondrous riches contained in this magnificent collection. The most stoical person that artifice ever schooled, or insensibility nurtured, could not maintain the nil admirari system in this Museum; where amazement and admiration await every step, as gallery after gallery, and hall after hall are paced, the eyes wandering from one treasure to another, fatigued by the multiplicity of objects that attract their gaze. Though I stopped several hours in the Museum, I carried away no distinct image in my mind, save that of the Apollo of Belvidere, which has surpassed my expectations. The noble dignity of the countenance, and the exquisite proportion of the figure, cannot be described. While contemplating this inimitable statue, I almost wondered how the French had courage to lay their sacrilegious hands on it, when they tore it from this, its fitting shrine, to transport it to Paris. Its haughty and godlike scorn should have stayed their profane intentions. A confused mass of the rarest works of art, the riches of bygone centuries, floated in my memory on leaving the Vatican; and the vivid recollection of the Apollo alone convinced me that I had not awaked from some gorgeous dream. How the Louvre sinks into insignificance when compared with the Vatican! The blue skies and pure air seem to respect its treasures, and they borrow fresh charms from the clear atmosphere that surrounds them. It would require months to habituate a person to the examination of this wonderful collection; and I anticipate with delight my return to Rome, when a protracted séjour will enable me to spend many a day in the Vatican. We scarcely paused to admire the frescos of Raphael in the chambers and Loggia, so fatigued were our senses by the wonder excited by the objects in the museum. Had any one told me that I should merely look en passant at the works of him, the inspired painter of Urbino, I would have refused credence to the assertion-yet this has been the case. 10th.-The Pantheon "Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublimeShrine of all saints and temple of all gods, From Jove to Jesus-spared and blessed by time; Arch, empire, each thing round thee, and man plods Of art and piety-Pantheon! pride of Rome! Relic of nobler days, and noblest arts! Their eyes on honored forms, whose busts around them close." Byron has left nothing to be said of the Pantheon except by matter-of-fact travellers, who may give its dimensions, with all that is known of its history; and antiquaries, who love to establish some hypothesis relative to it, not so much with a view to throw a light on the subject, as to extinguish the light thrown by their predecessors or contemporary fréres du métier. I never visit any of the places on which Byron has written, without involuntarily repeating to myself the lines: and it may well be considered as not the least of the poetical triumphs he has achieved, that his name and his verses will be associated with the Eternal City and its treasures as long as our language shall last. Drove on the Monte Pincio and in the gardens of the Villa Borghese. Rome is nowhere seen to greater advantage than from the former, particularly from that part in front of the villa Medici, where a vista is artificially formed by the trees. There the castle of St. Angelo, and St. Peter's form fine features in the view; the cupola of this last lifting its stately head to the blue and cloudless skies, that throw it into a beautiful relief. The angel too, on the top of the castle of St. Angelo, has a fine effect, floating, as it were, in an atmosphere of the purest æther; its wings expanded as if to support it in the air. The gardens of the Villa Borghese, formal and |