DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4593#0308
284 THE ISLES AND SHRINES OF GREECE
of its columns are in place. The fragments of tri-
glyphs and moulding are of poor workmanship, and,
taken with the fact that the inscriptions found are
Roman, point to a Roman building, though elements
have been derived from an earlier structure. The
Greek priest who stood uncovered upon the threshold
seemed as if he might have been one of the original
worshippers.
On a ridge commanding a panorama of the Arcadian
mountains and plains, Demetrius, our chief guide,
spread our luncheon while we were inspecting the
temple ruins. He built a fire, made a wooden spit,
impaled a sacrificial Iamb, and roasted it in primitive
Homeric style over a bed of coals. This lamb with
black bread, and wine for the wine drinkers, made the
substance of our paschal meal on a day which Europe
— not Greece — was celebrating as Good Friday. We
crossed Mount Lycaeus, from which we had a splendid
view of the plains of Messenia to the south, with Tay-
getus (7,900 feet) covered with snow. The intervening
hills are stern and treeless, but the valley is checkered
with red and green. We faced Laconia. Sparta lay
hidden beyond the mountains. This hard, bleak coun-
try might well have been the home of Lycurgus. It is
not a land flowing with milk and honey; it is still to-
day the land of black bread and wine. The camera
could only blink helplessly at the magnificent scenery.
Wc were in the very centre of the Peloponnesus, in a
sanctuary of peaks and altars, with nestling valleys and
the Alpheius singing its way to the sea. Greece is
persistently mountainous. The whole Peloponnesus
is " rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun." The strips
and squares of plain, if quilted together, would not
of its columns are in place. The fragments of tri-
glyphs and moulding are of poor workmanship, and,
taken with the fact that the inscriptions found are
Roman, point to a Roman building, though elements
have been derived from an earlier structure. The
Greek priest who stood uncovered upon the threshold
seemed as if he might have been one of the original
worshippers.
On a ridge commanding a panorama of the Arcadian
mountains and plains, Demetrius, our chief guide,
spread our luncheon while we were inspecting the
temple ruins. He built a fire, made a wooden spit,
impaled a sacrificial Iamb, and roasted it in primitive
Homeric style over a bed of coals. This lamb with
black bread, and wine for the wine drinkers, made the
substance of our paschal meal on a day which Europe
— not Greece — was celebrating as Good Friday. We
crossed Mount Lycaeus, from which we had a splendid
view of the plains of Messenia to the south, with Tay-
getus (7,900 feet) covered with snow. The intervening
hills are stern and treeless, but the valley is checkered
with red and green. We faced Laconia. Sparta lay
hidden beyond the mountains. This hard, bleak coun-
try might well have been the home of Lycurgus. It is
not a land flowing with milk and honey; it is still to-
day the land of black bread and wine. The camera
could only blink helplessly at the magnificent scenery.
Wc were in the very centre of the Peloponnesus, in a
sanctuary of peaks and altars, with nestling valleys and
the Alpheius singing its way to the sea. Greece is
persistently mountainous. The whole Peloponnesus
is " rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun." The strips
and squares of plain, if quilted together, would not