DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.5074#0367
SUNSET AT ATHENS.
349
sunset found us there during our short stay in Athens,
and my pulse quickens as I recall the indescribable love-
liness of that view, dyed in hues that no paint-box can
imitate. The great plain of Attica lies at one's feet,
covered with the gardens that surround the city, and
the olive woods which are now, in the slanting rays of
the sun, of a deep, dark myrtle green—the calm sea,
like a , turquoise mirror, stretches out beyond — (the
white lines of the Piraeus brightly marked on the shore
and the pretty bay of Phalerum curving round with
the ancient port of Munychia at one side)'—the two
lovely islands of iEgina and Salamis, dyed in deep
lustrous purple, seem to lie floating on the bosom of the
sea: the mountains of the Peloponnesus, in clear forget-
me-not blue, range behind its distant shore, where stand
Epidaurus, Methana, and Troezen : while, to the left,
the sun sinks in floods of orange behind beautiful
Greranea and the other mountains on the isthmus of
Corinth, all bathed in a dark, mysterious violet,—the
summit of Kitkseron coming in behind the sloping foot
of Mount Parnes which formed the boundary wall of
Attica. Graze upon this till every lovely line is im-
printed for ever on your mind—then turn in haste,
and catch the last rosy glow on the Acropolis with the
Parthenon exalted in lofty majesty above all: their
ruin and decay veiled over by the kindly distance, and
the ancient splendour almost restored in the loveliness
of the golden hue spread over the noble marble fronts ;
—mark the crimson tint on the barren rock beneath,
and the " wine-empurpled" violet of wild, stern Ly-
cabettus and beautiful Hymettus behind them ; — do
not shun a hasty glance at modern Athens which then,
and then only, comes out in a thousand nameless tints
of delicate colours, softening the staring, upstart mo-
dernism it wears by day—and acknowledge that the
349
sunset found us there during our short stay in Athens,
and my pulse quickens as I recall the indescribable love-
liness of that view, dyed in hues that no paint-box can
imitate. The great plain of Attica lies at one's feet,
covered with the gardens that surround the city, and
the olive woods which are now, in the slanting rays of
the sun, of a deep, dark myrtle green—the calm sea,
like a , turquoise mirror, stretches out beyond — (the
white lines of the Piraeus brightly marked on the shore
and the pretty bay of Phalerum curving round with
the ancient port of Munychia at one side)'—the two
lovely islands of iEgina and Salamis, dyed in deep
lustrous purple, seem to lie floating on the bosom of the
sea: the mountains of the Peloponnesus, in clear forget-
me-not blue, range behind its distant shore, where stand
Epidaurus, Methana, and Troezen : while, to the left,
the sun sinks in floods of orange behind beautiful
Greranea and the other mountains on the isthmus of
Corinth, all bathed in a dark, mysterious violet,—the
summit of Kitkseron coming in behind the sloping foot
of Mount Parnes which formed the boundary wall of
Attica. Graze upon this till every lovely line is im-
printed for ever on your mind—then turn in haste,
and catch the last rosy glow on the Acropolis with the
Parthenon exalted in lofty majesty above all: their
ruin and decay veiled over by the kindly distance, and
the ancient splendour almost restored in the loveliness
of the golden hue spread over the noble marble fronts ;
—mark the crimson tint on the barren rock beneath,
and the " wine-empurpled" violet of wild, stern Ly-
cabettus and beautiful Hymettus behind them ; — do
not shun a hasty glance at modern Athens which then,
and then only, comes out in a thousand nameless tints
of delicate colours, softening the staring, upstart mo-
dernism it wears by day—and acknowledge that the