and the Twins. There, fanned by vernal airs, the Spirit of Beauty sprung

from her cold repose; and, with winnowing wings and soft pacing feet, set a

girdle of verdure around the earth, sporting among the violets, hiding

within the springing foliage of the trees, tripping lightly down the

radiant streams into the sunny deep. "For lo! winter is past, the rain is

over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of

birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; the fig

tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines, with the tender grape,

give a good smell."[2] Thus was it in the time of the ancient regal poet;

thus was it now.

Yet how could we miserable hail the approach of this delightful season? We

hoped indeed that death did not now as heretofore walk in its shadow; yet,

left as we were alone to each other, we looked in each other's faces with

enquiring eyes, not daring altogether to trust to our presentiments, and

endeavouring to divine which would be the hapless survivor to the other

three. We were to pass the summer at the lake of Como, and thither we

removed as soon as spring grew to her maturity, and the snow disappeared

from the hill tops. Ten miles from Como, under the steep heights of the

eastern mountains, by the margin of the lake, was a villa called the

Pliniana, from its being built on the site of a fountain, whose periodical

ebb and flow is described by the younger Pliny in his letters. The house

had nearly fallen into ruin, till in the year 2090, an English nobleman had

bought it, and fitted it up with every luxury. Two large halls, hung with

splendid tapestry, and paved with marble, opened on each side of a court,

of whose two other sides one overlooked the deep dark lake, and the other

565

The Last Man