See is marvelously
What one does see is marvelously, nearly ineffably lovely. Herodotus referred to as this land, with its stony soil and its multitudes of naked mountains, the “rugged nurse of liberty.” Although rugged, and infrequently bare, nonetheless its loveliness—and that mushy phrase have to be used—is so nice and so pure that, as we give to Greek artwork the crown of untamed olive, so we should give it certainly additionally to the surroundings of Greece. It’s a loveliness of define, of shade, and above all of sunshine.
Virtually in every single place in Greece
Virtually in every single place in Greece you see mountains, vary upon vary, closing about you or, extra typically, melting away into far distances, into outlines of shadows and goals. Virtually in every single place, or so it appeared to me, you look upon the ocean. And because the outlines of the mountains of Greece are practically al-ways divinely calm, so the colours of the seas of Greece are magically deep and radiant and different. And over mountains and seas fall altering wonders of sunshine, giving to stipulate everlasting meanings, to paint the depth of a soul.
Whenever you stand upon the Acropolis you see not solely ruins which, taking all the pieces into considera-tion, are maybe probably the most fantastic on the planet, but additionally probably the most lovely views of the world. It’s asserted as a truth by authorities that the traditional Greeks had little or no feeling for great thing about panorama. One well-known author on issues Greek states that “a tremendous view as such had little attraction for them,” that’s, the Greeks. It is rather troublesome for
those that are acquainted with the websites the Greeks se-lected for his or her nice temples and theaters, such because the rock of the Acropolis, the heights at Sunium and at Argos, the hill at Taormina in Sicily, and so on., to really feel assured of this, nevertheless missing in allusion to the fantastic thing about nature, until in reference to sup-posed animating intelligences, Greek literature could also be. It’s nearly unattainable to imagine it as you stand on the Acropolis.
All Athens lies beneath you, pale, nearly white, with hints of mauve and yellow, grey and brown, with its dominating palace, its tiny Byzantine church buildings, its tiled and flat roofs, its solitary cypress- timber and gardens. Lycabettus stands out, small, however daring, nearly defiant. Past, and on each facet, stretches the calm plain of Attica. That winding river of mud marks the Through Sacra, alongside which the good processions used to cross to Eleusis by the water. There are the darkish groves of Academe, a spot of relaxation in a naked land. The marble quarries gleam white on the lengthy flanks of Mount Pentelicus, and the good vary of Parnes leads on to SEgaleos.