words "Hell of
waters," used by Lord Byron, would not have occurred to me while
looking at this cataract, which impresses the astonished mind with an
overwhelming idea of power, might, magnificence, and impetuosity; but
blends at the same time all that is most tremendous in sound and
motion, with all that is most bright and lovely in forms, in colours,
and in scenery.

As I stood close to the edge of the precipice, immediately under the
great fall, I felt my respiration gone: I turned giddy, almost faint,
and was obliged to lean against the rock for support. The mad plunge
of the waters, the deafening roar, the presence of a power which no
earthly force could resist or control, struck me with an awe almost
amounting to terror. A bright sunbow stood over the torrent, which,
seen from below, has the appearance of a luminous white arch bending
from rock to rock. The whole scene was--but how can I say what it was?
I have exhausted my stock of fine words; and must be content with
silent recollections, and the sense of admiration and wonder
unexpressed.

Below the fall, an inundation which took place a year ago, undermined
and carried away part of the banks of the Nera, at the same time
laying open an ancient Roman bridge, which had been buried for ages.
The channel of the river and the depth of the soil must have been
greatly altered since this bridge was erected.

When we returned to the inn at Terni, and while the horses were
putting to, I took up a volume of Eustace's tour, which some traveller
had accidentally left on the table; and turning to the description of
Terni, read part of it, but quickly threw down the book with
indignation, deeming all his verbiage the merest nonsense I had ever
met with: in fact, it _is_ nonsense to attempt to image in words an
individual scene like this. When we had made out our description as
accurately as possible, it would do as well for any other cataract in
the world: we can only combine rocks, wood, and water, in certain
proportions. A good picture may give a tolerable idea of a particular
scene or landscape: but no picture, no painter, not Ruysdael himself,
can give a just idea of a cataract. The lifeless, silent, unmoving
image is there: but where is the thundering roar, the terrible
velocity, the glory of refracted light, the eternity of sound, and
infinity of motion, in which essentially its effect consists?

In the valley beneath the Falls of Terni, there is a beautiful reti