ITALIAN GRANDEUR 



his pleasure. There is here this sense of such 

 royal commands. And, besides, there is the 

 feeling that all this has been artificially arranged. 

 Its essence is architectural ; a vast mosaic of 

 paths and alleys and beds and fountains, groves 

 and solitudes. 



There is something brazen in its beauty, as of 

 a Venetian beauty in stiff brocades and ropes of 

 pearls and hair artfully bleached in the sun. All 

 the gods are here, and the philosophers standing 

 on pedestals, their marble whiteness against 

 cypress trees flashing in the sun. In the basin of 

 the great fountain before us naked women ride on 

 the backs of dolphins, and the waters play in a 

 hundred patterns, while the sun, for his amuse- 

 ment it seems, makes and breaks a thousand 

 rainbows. They die and fade and leap into life 

 in the mist of spray above the water ; they lie 

 embedded in single drops, or curve across the 

 expanse. 



There are white steps beyond leading to 

 terraces and groves of citron, where the lemons 

 lean against white columns and gleam pale beside 

 the red gold of the oranges. Two giant fig trees 

 mark the entrances to grotts ; and on the hill 



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