The angles at the sides, where the road had been cut
down a little below the rock-level, were sharp and clean as if
carved yesterday, and the profound ruts, worn, perhaps, before Rome
had come to her power, showed the grinding of wheels with strange
distinctness. From this point there is an admirable view of Taranto,
the sea, and the mountains behind.
Of the ancient town there remains hardly anything worthy of being
called a ruin. Near the shore, however, one can see a few remnants
of a theatre - perhaps that theatre where the Tarentines were
sitting when they saw Roman galleys, in scorn of treaty, sailing up
the Gulf.
My last evenings were brightened by very beautiful sunsets; one in
particular remains with me; I watched it for an hour or more from
the terrace-road of the island town. An exquisite after-glow seemed
as if it would never pass away. Above thin, grey clouds stretching
along the horizon a purple flush melted insensibly into the dark
blue of the zenith. Eastward the sky was piled with lurid rack,
sullen-tinted folds edged with the hue of sulphur. The sea had a
strange aspect, curved tracts of pale blue lying motionless upon a
dark expanse rippled by the wind.
