越过大风的大海，越过清澈的峰顶，奔向太阳和天空，奔向更完美的大地，来吧，让我们走吧，——去一个古时众神游荡的地方，在那里，甚至现在的每一次呼吸都变成了神圣的。来吧，我们走吧;但同时又低声说:“我们生活的世界，无论我们到哪里去，都是同一个狭窄的摇篮;我们旅行，只是为了证明我们的极限，测量一条绳索;谁想逃避，想得到自由，就让他回自己的房间去思考吧;这不过是为有意失忆的记忆，换掉无谓的幻想;这不过是去而复返。“来吧，小狗崽子!”我们走吧。克劳德致尤斯塔斯。亲爱的尤斯塔多，我写信是要你回信给我，或者至少使我们彼此和睦。 Rome disappoints me much,--St Peter's, perhaps, in especial; Only the Arch of Titus and view from the Lateran please me: This, however, perhaps is the weather, which truly is horrid. Greece must be better, surely; and yet I am feeling so spiteful, That I could travel to Athens, to Delphi, and Troy, and Mount Sinai, Though but to see with my eyes that these are vanity also. Rome disappoints me much; I hardly as yet understand it, but Rubbishy seems the word that most exactly would suit it. All the foolish destructions, and all the sillier savings, All the incongruous things of past incompatible ages, Seem to be treasured up here to make fools of present and future. Would to Heaven the old Goths had made a cleaner sweep of it! Would to Heaven some new ones would come and destroy these churches! However, one can live in Rome as also in London.* It is a blessing, no doubt, to be rid, at least for a time, of All one's friends and relations,--yourself (forgive me!) included,-- All the assujettissement of having been what one has been, What one thinks one is, or thinks that others suppose one; Yet, in despite of all, we turn like fools to the English. Vernon has been my fate; who is here the same that you knew him,-- Making the tour, it seems, with friends of the name of Trevellyn. * The 1968 Oxford Edition, edited by A.L.P. Norrington, includes a line immediately following this: Rome is better than London, because it is other than London. II. Claude to Eustace. Rome disappoints me still; but I shrink and adapt myself to it. Somehow a tyrannous sense of a superincumbent oppression Still, wherever I go, accompanies ever, and makes me Feel like a tree (shall I say?) buried under a ruin of brickwork. Rome, believe me, my friend, is like its own Monte Testaceo, Merely a marvellous mass of broken and castaway wine-pots. Ye gods! what do I want with this rubbish of ages departed, Things that Nature abhors, the experiments that she has failed in? What do I find in the Forum? An archway and two or three pillars. Well, but St. Peter's? Alas, Bernini has filled it with sculpture! No one can cavil, I grant, at the size of the great Coliseum. Doubtless the notion of grand and capacious and massive amusement, This the old Romans had; but tell me, is this an idea? Yet of solidity much, but of splendour little is extant: 'Brickwork I found thee, and marble I left thee!' their Emperor vaunted; 'Marble I thought thee, and brickwork I find thee!' the Tourist may answer. III. Georgina Trevellyn to Louisa ----. At last, dearest Louisa, I take up my pen to address you. Here we are, you see, with the seven-and-seventy boxes, Courier, Papa and Mamma, the children, and Mary and Susan: Here we all are at Rome, and delighted of course with St. Peter's, And very pleasantly lodged in the famous Piazza di Spagna. Rome is a wonderful place, but Mary shall tell you about it; Not very gay, however; the English are mostly at Naples; There are the A.'s, we hear, and most of the W. party. George, however, is come; did I tell you about his mustachios? Dear, I must really stop, for the carriage, they tell me, is waiting; Mary will finish; and Susan is writing, they say, to Sophia. Adieu, dearest Louise,--evermore your faithful Georgina. Who can a Mr. Claude be whom George has taken to be with? Very stupid, I think, but George says so very clever. IV. Claude to Eustace. No, the Christian faith, as at any rate I understood it, With its humiliations and exaltations combining, Exaltations sublime, and yet diviner abasements, Aspirations from something most shameful here upon earth and In our poor selves to something most perfect above in the heavens,-- No, the Christian faith, as I, at least, understood it, Is not here, O Rome, in any of these thy churches; Is not here, but in Freiburg, or Rheims, or Westminster Abbey. What in thy Dome I find, in