To that water⁠—cause of my woes, perhaps now to be their cure, I would betake myself. Farewell, Italy!⁠—farewell, thou ornament of the world, matchless Rome, the retreat of the solitary one during long months!⁠—to civilized life⁠—to the settled home and succession of monotonous days, farewell! Peril will now be mine; and I hail her as a friend⁠—death will perpetually cross my path, and I will meet him as a benefactor; hardship, inclement weather, and dangerous tempests will be my sworn mates. Ye spirits of storm, receive me! ye powers of destruction, open wide your arms, and clasp me forever! if a kinder power have not decreed another end, so that after long endurance I may reap my reward, and again feel my heart beat near the heart of another like to me.

Tiber, the road which is spread by nature’s own hand, threading her continent, was at my feet, and many a boat was tethered to the banks. I would with a few books, provisions, and my dog, embark in one of these and float down the current of the stream into the sea; and then, keeping near land, I would coast the beauteous shores and sunny promontories of the blue Mediterranean, pass Naples, along Calabria