File:Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna (1877) (14590174618).jpg

Identifier: italyfromalpstom00stie (find matches)
Title: Italy from the Alps to Mount Etna
Year: 1877 (1870s)
Authors: Stieler, Karl, 1842-1885 Cavagna Sangiuliani di Gualdana, Antonio, conte, 1843-1913, former owner. IU-R Paulus, Eduard, 1837-1907 Kaden, Woldemar, 1838-1907 Trollope, Frances Eleanor, d. 1913 Trollope, Thomas Adolphus, 1810-1892
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Publisher: London : Chapman and Hall
Contributing Library: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

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ebut undoubtedly genuine Gothic work—is still shown in the Church of San Flaviano atMontefiascone. Propter nimium Est EstDominus metis mortuus est. The noble churchman was travelling through Italy, and being much disgusted at thequantity of poor sour wine he found on his journey, he sent a trusty henchman on beforehim as avant-courcur to investigate the hostelries on his route, and to taste the wine. Ifthe liquor were found satisfactory, the faithful servant was to chalk the word Est on thetavern door. In due course he arrived at Montefiascone, and tasted the muscadel. Sodelicious did he find it that one single Est appeared to him but poorly to set forth itsmerits :—so he chalked up two ! Then with chalk of ruddy hue On the tavern door he drew In great letters his device, Est twice over—some say thrice. Came the bishop, saw, and drank.Till upon the ground he sank.Tapster, cellarer, host, and allGave him pious burial.Propter nimium Est EstDominus mats mortuus est. WlLHELM MuLLER.
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TO ROME. Lo, as the rosy morning light is growing,Soractes sevenfold peaks are redly glowing !And ere that selfsame sun sink in the west,On great eternal Rome thine eyes shall rest. ERE begins already the great waste of the Roman Campagna, covering wonder-ful ruins, of which a few here and there peep up above the soil. Sometimeswe come upon a group of miserable huts made of reeds, or a crumblingmediaeval tower. Poisonous weeds grow luxuriantly around them; thistlesand the noble acanthus, looking as though the capitals of the Corinthian columns buriedin the soil had sprouted into leaf! Here is Viterbo, the ancient city, with its beautiful murmuring fountains and sombrepalaces, and, outside its gates, singular rocks full of caverns, and gardens of Renaissancevillas running wild. Viterbo is the city of the Popes, who frequently took refuge hereeither from German Kaisers, or from their own turbulent Romans. The huge Papalpalace still stands stern and fortress-like, the old time-stained to

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