[En route to Pisa—Saturday, 14 January 1860]

Saturday 14th Waked this morning to find a yellow sunshine flooding the shores and mountain peaks of Italy. I felt that I had never known before how beautiful this lovely country was or what a dreamful happiness to be here among beauties I had so long thought of and loved. The water was as blue as only the Meditteranean [sic] knows how to be and the silvered Appenines [sic] gleamed and glowed piercing me with their silver darts of glory. It was a moment I had longed for, it came suddenly and differently but that it came at all is a joy to be remembered with thankfulness.

This afternoon we came to Pisa. The grandeur of its Cathedral was a new surprise as if I had never seen one before, almost sublime in its isolation. We ascended the Campanile and such a view! The sun was just setting. Florence glimmered in the distance while the river ran just below and the mountains where Shelley found his Prometheus glowed and sparkled in their snowy whiteness. I fancy Italy is nearer to me, the Italy I look for in the small decaying towns or on the still lonelier shore than in any of her cities except Rome.


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