The Wall

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“What a dear old wall that is that runs along by the river there! I never pass it without feeling better for the sight of it. Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what a charming picture it would make, with the lichen creeping here, and the moss growing there, a shy young vine peeping over the top at this spot, to see what is going on upon the busy river, and the sober old ivy clustering a little farther down! There are fifty shades and tints and hues in every ten yards of that old wall. . . . It looks so peaceful and so quiet, and it is such a dear old place to ramble round in the early morning before many people are about.” Jerome K. Jerome, “Three Men In A Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)” Ch. 6 (1889)

Cyclops Blacksmith

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 “Sacred to Vulcan’s name, an isle there lay,

Betwixt Sicilia’s coasts and Lipare, 

Rais’d high on smoking rocks; and, deep below,

In hollow caves the fires of Ætna glow. 

The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal; 

Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel, 

Are heard around; the boiling waters roar,

And smoky flames thro’ fuming tunnels soar.”


—Vergil (70 B.C.–19 B.C.).  Æneid.




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