1/7 CHAPTER 1.V. xviii. Mount behind me,--mount on my hippogriff, reader; settle yourself at your ease. I bought the pillion the other day of a poet who loves his comfort; it has been newly stuffed for your special accommodation. So, so, we ascend! Look as we ride aloft,--look!--never fear, hippogriffs never stumble; and every hippogriff in Italy is warranted to carry elderly gentlemen,--look down on the gliding landscapes! There, near the ruins of the Oscan's old Atella, rises Aversa, once the stronghold of the Norman; there gleam the columns of Capua, above the Vulturnian Stream. |