CHAPTER V.
"ATHÆNE TO A SATYR."
By dawn they had reached the shore, having bent far southward of where Naples lay, and so round to the sea.
Here the worn-out horses, fasting and drenched with steam, and spent with fatigue paused, under the great shadow of a mighty wall of cliff that rose up from the breadth of smooth and yellow sand, its sides jagged and honeycombed, its crest overhung with festoons of wild vine and crowned with the grey plumes of olive, the waters idly lapping the amber beach below, and reaching outward till the dim sea-line and the mist-laden skies of morning blent in one. Involuntarily she stretched her hands to it in welcome and in prayer, as though the Sea-God of her fathers lived and heard.
"Oh waters! give me your liberty."
They looked so wide, so cool, so deeply still,
