ved of all the
ancient Roman circuses, and affords an excellent clue to the
arrangements of such places for chariot races and the accommodation of
the spectators. The external walls run on unbroken for about a
quarter of a mile. In many places the vaults supporting the seats
still remain. The spina in the centre marking the course of the races,
on either end of which stood the two Egyptian obelisks which now adorn
the Piazza Navona and the Piazza del Popolo, though grass-grown, can
be easily defined; and the towers flanking the extremities, where the
judges sat, and the triumphal gate through which the victors passed,
are almost entire. It would not be difficult, with such aids to the
imagination, to conjure up the splendid games that used to take place
within that vast enclosure; the chariots of green, blue, white, and
red driving furiously seven times round the course, the emperor and
all his nobles sitting in the places of honour, looking on with
enthusiasm, and the victor coming in at the goal, and the shouts and
exclamations of the excited multitude. On the elevated ground behind
the circus is a fringe of olive-trees, with a line of feathery elms
beyond; and rising over all, the purple background of the Sabine and
Alban hills. It is a lonely enough spot now; and the gentle hand of
spring clothes the naked walls with a perfect garden of wild flowers,
and softens with the greenest and tenderest turf the spots trodden by
the feet of so many thousands. In the immediate vicinity of the circus
are extensive ruins, visible and prominent objects from the road,
consisting of large fragments of walls and apses, dispersed among the
vineyards and enclosures.

By far the best-known monument on the Appian Way is the Tomb of
Caecilia Metella. It is a conspicuous landmark in the wide waste, and
catches the eye at a long distance from many points of view. It is as
familiar a feature in paintings of the Campagna almost as the Claudian
Aqueduct. This celebrity it owes to its immense size, its wonderful
state of preservation, and above all to the genius of Lord Byron, who
has made it the theme of some of the most elegant and touching stanzas
in _Childe Harold_. Nothing can be finer than the appearance of this
circular tower in the afternoon, when the red level light of sunset,
striking full upon it, brings out the rich warm glow of its yellow
travertine stones in striking relief against the monotonous green of
the Campagna. It is bui