Whatsoever change may have been wrought in the rugged isle of Capreae by the neglect, or the hand, of man, during the long ages since the days of Imperial fame and favour, we can be sure, as we survey the sea-girt spot from one of its rocky eminences, that we look upon the same outlines and formation of nature as met the eyes of humble fisherman and jaded patrician of antiquity. A low-lying sandy shore appears and disappears in the lapse of centuries. What was once a sandy strand, worn by the waves, grated by the keels of ships, and pressed by the busy feet of citizens a thousand years ago, is now, perhaps, an inland region of cultivated fields lying around a sleepy town. What was once a green plain, ages ago, is now the sandy bottom of a waste of waters. But the rocky face of Capreae is unchanged and changeless. Its flinty cliffs rise sheer from the blue sea; beaten by the waves, but imperishable. At their feet are the natural caves and grottoes which have been discovered from time to time in modern days, and pointed out as marvels, when lo! on inspection, they are found to have been better known and more frequented in the olden time.

There, starting out of the sea, lie, in a row, three huge detached crags, as if they had been torn from the cliffs and hurled beneath—abrupt, impregnable, immutable, as in the day when they saw the ships of the fabled Aeneas sail by on their way to found a mighty empire.

What an ephemeral existence to theirs was that of the Pharos which once stood adjacent, and, nightly, cast a gleam from its lofty lantern upon their jagged tops, maybe for a long space of generations!

And, see, on the summit of one of them rest the remains [pg 132]of a Roman tomb, which arouse strange wonderings as to the being of antiquity whose spirit desired such an isolated, inviolable spot for a last resting-place!

On the summits of the hills, in the valleys, even under the pellucid water of the marge, are yet remaining the traces of the magnificence which sprang at the Imperial nod to adorn this lovely island, in the period when the Caesars sought it as a secluded residence. The traces are but small of the much that is known to have once been; but, as the eye roves from one elevation to another, over the luxuriant gardens, vineyards, and orange plantations which carpet the valleys and clothe the terraced slopes, we can picture to our imaginations the palaces and groves of Imperial luxury, and, if tradition speak truth, of Imperial vice.