THE COASTS OF SICILY. 197 



before us but vast arid plains, abutting to the right 

 on the rugo-ed and barren side of Mount Inici. In 

 the midst of this desolation, a sudden turn in the 

 road brought us to a point of view which made us 

 pause with wonder and admiration. At about three 

 quarters of a mile from us, in the midst of a desert, 

 which looked as if it had hitherto escaped from all 

 contact with human industry, and placed upon a high 

 hill as upon a pedestal, rose one of the most magni- 

 ficent monuments of ancient art. The Temple of 

 Segesta stood before us, marvellous in its perfect 

 preservation. Not one of its thirty-six columns, 

 nearly thirty feet in height, and more than six feet 

 in diameter, has tottered on its pedestal. Not a 

 stone is detached from the simple cornice which 

 crowns the edifice with its severe lines. Only here 

 and there a few slender grasses, some bunches of 

 fennel or the fan-like leaves of the Chamasrops have 

 attached their roots to the smooth pediment or within 

 the narrow chinks which separate the solid blocks 

 of stone, whose sharply cut angles look as if they 

 were fresh from the hand of the workman. The 

 only sign of decadence consists in the general tint of 

 the whole edifice, which could only be reproduced 

 by the deepest tones of burnt sienna or oxide of 

 iron. 



What feelings of painful indignation must affect 

 the artist on discovering, as he looks upon this 

 august monument of a past age, that it has been 

 wantonly disfigured through the vanity of a modern 

 prince. The base of the edifice having been con- 

 cealed beneath vast accumulations of earth. King 



o 3 



