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            <title>Thomas Gray to Richard West (20  and 21 May 1740)</title>
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                        <title>Correspondence of Thomas Gray</title>, 3 vols. Ed. by the late Paget Toynbee and Leonard Whibley, with corrections and additions by H. W. Starr. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971 [1st ed. 1935], letter no. 86, vol. i, 155-158
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                        <title>The Poems of Mr. Gray. To which are prefixed Memoirs of his Life and Writings by W[illiam]. Mason.</title> York: printed by A. Ward; and sold by J. Dodsley, London; and J. Todd, York, 1775, letter xx, section ii, 83-87
				<ref type="url">https://www.thomasgray.org/texts/diglib/primary/1775/1/83</ref>
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                        <title>The Correspondence of Gray, Walpole, West and Ashton (1734-1771)</title>, 2 vols. Chronologically arranged and edited with introduction, notes, and index by Paget Toynbee. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1915, letter no. 118, vol. i, 298-302
				<ref type="url">https://www.thomasgray.org/texts/diglib/primary/TyP_1915i/1/298</ref>
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                        <title>The Letters of Thomas Gray, including the correspondence of Gray and Mason</title>, 3 vols. Ed. by Duncan C. Tovey. London: George Bell and Sons, 1900-12, letter no. XXXVIII, vol. i, 65-68
				<ref type="url">https://www.thomasgray.org/texts/diglib/primary/ToD_1900i/1/65</ref>
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                        <title>The Works of Thomas Gray</title>, 2 vols. Ed. by John Mitford. London: J. Mawman, 1816, section II, letter XXII, vol. ii, 88-91
				<ref type="url">https://www.thomasgray.org/texts/diglib/primary/MiJ_1816ii/1/88</ref>
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                        <title>The Works of Thomas Gray</title>, 5 vols. Ed. by John Mitford. London: W. Pickering, 1835-1843, section II, letter XXII, vol. ii, 104-108
				<ref type="url">https://www.thomasgray.org/texts/diglib/primary/MiJ_1843ii/2/104</ref>
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                     <bibl>
                        <title>The Letters of Thomas Gray</title>, 2 vols. in one. London: J. Sharpe, 1819, letter XXXVIII, vol. i, 78-82
				<ref type="url">https://www.thomasgray.org/texts/diglib/primary/1819/1/78</ref>
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                        <title>The Works of Thomas Gray</title>, 2 vols. Ed. by Thomas James Mathias. London: William Bulmer, 1814, section II, letter XX, vol. i, 207-211
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            <p>This letter is part of the correspondence calendar of the complete correspondence of Thomas Gray. The calendar contains detailed bibliographic records for all known original, copied, or published letters written by or to the poet as well as the full-text, where available.  Each record is accompanied by digitised images of the manuscript, where available, or digitised images of the first printed edition.</p>
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            <dateline>Tivoli, May 20, 1740.</dateline>
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         <p>This day being in the palace of his Highness the Duke of Modena, he laid his most serene commands
					upon me to write to Mr. West, and said he thought it for his glory, that I should draw up an inventory of all his most serene
					possessions for the said West's perusal.–Imprimis, a house, being in circumference a quarter of a mile, two feet and an inch;
					the said house containing the following particulars, to wit, a great room. Item, another great room; item, a bigger room; item, another
					room; item, a vast room; item, a sixth of the same; a seventh ditto; an eighth as before; a ninth as abovesaid; a tenth (see No. 1.);
					item, ten more such, besides twenty besides, which, not to be too particular, we shall pass over. The said rooms contain nine chairs,
					two tables, five stools, and a cricket. From whence we shall proceed to the garden, containing two millions of superfine laurel hedges,
					a clump of cypress trees, and half the river Teverone, that pisses into two thousand several chamberpots. Finis.–Dame Nature
					desired me to put in a list of her little goods and chattels, and, as they were small, to be very minute about them. She has built here
					three or four little mountains, and laid them out in an irregular semi-circle; from certain others behind, at a greater distance, she
					has drawn a canal, into which she has put a little river of hers, called Anio; she has cut a huge cleft between the two innermost of
					her four hills, and there she has left it to its own disposal; which she has no sooner done, but, like a heedless chit, it tumbles
					headlong down a declivity fifty feet perpendicular, breaks itself all to shatters, and is converted into a shower of rain, where the
					sun forms many a bow, red, green, blue and yellow. To get out of our metaphors without any further trouble, it is the most noble sight
					in the world. The weight of that quantity of waters, and the force they fall with, have worn the rocks they throw themselves among into
					a thousand irregular craggs, and to a vast depth. In this channel it goes boiling along with a mighty noise till it comes to another
					steep, where you see it a second time come roaring down (but first you must walk two miles farther) a greater height than before, but
					not with that quantity of waters; for by this time it has divided itself, being crossed and opposed by the rocks, into four several
					streams, each of which, in emulation of the great one, will tumble down too; and it does tumble down, but not from an equally elevated
					place; so that you have at one view all these cascades intermixed with groves of olive and little woods, the mountains rising behind
					them, and on the top of one (that which forms the extremity of one of the half-circle's horns) is seated the town itself. At the very
					extremity of that extremity, on the brink of the precipice, stands the Sybils' temple, the remains of a little rotunda, surrounded with
					its portico, above half of whose beautiful Corinthian pillars are still standing and entire; all this on one hand. On the other, the
					open Campagna of Rome, here and there a little castle on a hillock, and the city itself on the very brink of the horizon, indistinctly
					seen (being 18 miles off) except the dome of St. Peter's; which, if you look out of your window, wherever you are, I suppose, you can
					see. I did not tell you that a little below the first fall, on the side of the rock, and hanging over that torrent, are little ruins
					which they shew you for Horace's house, a curious situation to observe the </p>
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            <p>Præceps Anio, &amp; Tiburni lucus, &amp; uda <lb/> Mobilibus pomaria rivis.</p>
         </q>
         <p>Mæcenas did not care for such a noise, it seems, and built him a house (which they also carry one to see) so situated that it sees
					nothing at all of the matter, and for any thing he knew there might be no such river in the world. Horace had another house on the
					other side of the Teverone, opposite to Mæcenas's; and they told us there was a bridge of communication, by which 'andava il detto
					Signor per trastullarsi coll' istesso Orazio'. In coming hither we crossed the Aquæ Albulæ, a vile little brook that stinks like a
					fury, and they say it has stunk so these thousand years. I forgot the Piscina of Quintilius Varus, where he used to keep certain little
					fishes. This is very entire, and there is a piece of the aqueduct that supplied it too; in the garden below is old Rome, built in
					little, just as it was, they say. There are seven temples in it, and no houses at all: They say there were none. </p>
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            <opener>
               <dateline>May 21.</dateline>
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            <p>We have had the pleasure of going twelve miles out of our way to Palestrina. It has rained all day as if heaven and us were coming
						together. See my honesty, I do not mention a syllable of the temple of Fortune, because I really did not see it; which, I think, is
						pretty well for an old traveller. So we returned along the Via Prænestina, saw the Lacus Gabinus and Regillus, where, you know, Castor
						and Pollux appeared upon a certain occasion. And many a good old tomb we left on each hand, and many
						an Aqueduct, </p>
            <q>
               <p>Dumb are whose fountains, and their channels dry. </p>
            </q>
            <p>There are, indeed, two whole modern ones, works of Popes, that run about thirty miles a-piece in length; one of them conveys still
						the famous Aqua Virgo to Rome, and adds vast beauty to the prospect. So we came to Rome again, where waited for us a splendidissimo
						regalo of letters; in one of which came You, with your huge characters and wide intervals, staring. I would have you to know, I expect
						you should take a handsome crow-quill when you write to me, and not leave room for a pin's point in four sides of a sheet royal. Do
						you but find matter, I will find spectacles. </p>
            <p>I have more time than I thought, and I will employ it in telling you about a Ball that we were at the other evening. Figure to
						yourself a Roman villa; all its little apartments thrown open, and lighted up to the best advantage. At the upper end of the gallery,
						a fine concert, in which La Diamantina, a famous virtuosa, played on the violin divinely, and sung angelically; Giovannino and
						Pasqualini (great names in musical story) also performed miraculously. On each side were ranged all the secular grand monde of Rome,
						the Ambassadors, Princesses, and all that. Among the rest Il Serenissimo Pretendente (as the Mantova gazette calls him) displayed his
						rueful length of person, with his two young ones, and all his ministry around him. 'Poi nacque un
						grazioso ballo,' where the world danced, and I sat in a corner regaling myself with iced fruits, and other pleasant
						rinfrescatives.</p>
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