The scent of rosemary seemed to be wafted across the ages from a vanished world.
After all, who knows whether I have seen the Galaesus?
Perhaps, as some hold, it is quite another river, flowing far to the west of Taranto into the open gulf.

Gialtrezze may have become Galeso merely because of the desire in scholars to believe that it was the classic stream; in other parts of Italy names have been so imposed.

But I shall not give ear to such discouraging argument.

It is little likely that my search will ever be renewed, and for me the Galaesus--"dulce Galaesi flumen"-- is the stream I found and tracked, whose waters I heard mingle with the Little Sea.

The memory has no sense of disappointment.