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The interior of this primitive old basilica is lofty and imposing； with twenty…four handsome columns of the gray Cippolino marble； and an elevated high altar and tribune； decorated with splendid mosaics of the sixth century；biblical subjects； in all the stiff faithfulness of the holy old times。 The marble floor is green and damp and slippery。 Under the tribune is the crypt； where the body of St。 Apollinaris used to lie （it is now under the high altar above）； and as I desired to see where he used to rest； I walked in。 I also walked into about six inches of water； in the dim； irreligious light； and so made a cold…water Baptist devotee of myself。 In the side aisles are wonderful old sarcophagi； containing the ashes of archbishops of Ravenna； so old that the owners' names are forgotten of two of them； which shows that a man may build a tomb more enduring than his memory。 The sculptured bas…reliefs are very interesting； being early Christian emblems and curious devices；symbols of sheep； palms； peacocks； crosses； and the four rivers of Paradise flowing down in stony streams from stony sources； and monograms； and pious rebuses。 At the entrance of the crypt is an open stone book； called the Breviary of Gregory the Great。 Detached from the church is the Bell Tower； a circular campanile of a sort peculiar to Ravenna； which adds to the picturesqueness of the pile； and suggests the notion that it is a mast unshipped from its vessel； the church； which consequently stands there water…logged； with no power to catch any wind； of doctrine or other； and move。 I forgot to say that the basilica was launched in the year 534。
A little weary with the good but damp old Christians； we ordered our driver to continue across the marsh to the Pineta； whose dark fringe bounded all our horizon toward the Adriatic。 It is the largest unbroken forest in Italy； and by all odds the most poetic in itself and its associations。 It is twenty…five miles long； and from one to three in breadth； a free growth of stately pines； whose boughs are full of music and sweet odors；a succession of lovely glades and avenues； with miles and miles of drives over the springy turf。 At the point where we entered is a farmhouse。 Laborers had been gathering the cones； which were heaped up in immense windrows； hundreds of feet in length。 Boys and men were busy pounding out the seeds from the cones。 The latter are used for fuel； and the former are pressed for their oil。 They are also eaten： we have often had them served at hotel tables； and found them rather tasteless； but not unpleasant。 The turf； as we drove into the recesses of the forest； was thickly covered with wild flowers； of many colors and delicate forms； but we liked best the violets； for they reminded us of home； though the driver seemed to think them less valuable than the seeds of the pine…cones。 A lovely day and history and romance united to fascinate us with the place。 We were driving over the spot where； eighteen centuries ago； the Roman fleet used to ride at anchor。 Here； it is certain； the gloomy spirit of Dante found congenial place for meditation； and the gay Boccaccio material for fiction。 Here for hours； day after day； Byron used to gallop his horse； giving vent to that restless impatience which could not all escape from his fiery pen； hearing those voices of a past and dead Italy which he； more truthfully and pathetically than any other poet； has put into living verse。 The driver pointed out what is called Byron's Path； where he was wont to ride。 Everybody here； indeed； knows of Byron； and I think his memory is more secure than any saint of them all in their stone boxes； partly because his poetry has celebrated the region； perhaps rather from the perpetuated tradition of his generosity。 No foreigner was ever so popular as he while he lived at Ravenna。 At least； the people say so now； since they find it so profitable to keep his memory alive and to point out his haunts。 The Italians） to be sure； know how to make capital out of poets and heroes； and are quick to learn the curiosity of foreigners； and to gratify it for a compensation。 But the evident esteem in which Byron's memory is held in the Armenian monastery of St。 Lazzaro； at Venice； must be otherwise accounted for。 The monks keep his library…room and table as they were when he wrote there； and like to show his portrait； and tell of his quick mastery of the difficult Armenian tongue。 We have a notable example of a Person who became a monk when he was sick； but Byron accomplished too much work during the few months he was on the Island of St。 Lazzaro； both in original composition and in translating English into Armenian； for one physically ruined and broken。
DANTE AND BYRON
The pilgrim to Ravenna； who has any idea of what is due to the genius of Dante； will be disappointed when he approaches his tomb。 Its situation is in a not very conspicuous corner； at the foot of a narrow street； bearing the poet's name； and beside the Church of San Francisco； which is interesting as containing the tombs of the Polenta family； whose hospitality to the wandering exile has rescued their names from oblivion。 Opposite the tomb is the shabby old brick house of the Polentas； where Dante passed many years of his life。 It is tenanted now by all sorts of people； and a dirty carriage…shop in the courtyard kills the poetry of it。 Dante died in 1321； and was at first buried in the neighboring church； but this tomb； since twice renewed； was erected； and his body removed here； in 1482。 It is a square stuccoed structure； stained light green； and covered by a dome；a tasteless monument； embellished with stucco medallions； inside； of the poet； of Virgil； of Brunetto Latini； the poet's master； and of his patron； Guido da Polenta。 On the sarcophagus is the epitaph； composed in Latin by Dante himself； who seems to have thought； with Shakespeare； that for a poet to make his own epitaph was the safest thing to do。 Notwithstanding the mean appearance of this sepulcher； there is none in all the soil of Italy that the traveler from America will visit with deeper interest。 Near by is the house where Byron first resided in Ravenna； as a tablet records。
The people here preserve all the memorials of Byron； and； I should judge； hold his memory in something like affection。 The Palace Guiccioli； in which he subsequently resided； is in another part of the town。 He spent over two years in Ravenna； and said he preferred it to any place in Italy。 Why I cannot see； unless it was remote from the route of travel； and the desolation of it was congenial to him。 Doubtless he loved these wide； marshy expanses on the Adriatic； and especially the great forest of pines on its shore； but Byron was apt to be governed in his choice of a residence by the woman with whom he was intimate。 The palace was certainly pleasanter than his gloomy house in the Strada di Porta Sisi； and the society of the Countess Guiccioli was rather a stimulus than otherwise to his literary activity。 At her suggestion he wrote the 〃Prophecy of Dante；〃 and the translation of 〃Francesca da Rimini〃 was 〃executed at Ravenna； where； five centuries before； and in the very house in which the unfortu