The tortured Tantalus still stands, to parch in his shifting pool,
And starve, when fruit sways just beyond his grasp:
The image of the miser rich, when his avaricious soul
Robs him of food and drink, in Plenty’s clasp.
(Ascyltos was for going to Naples that same day, but I protested the imprudence of going to any place where they would be on the lookout for us. “Let’s absent ourselves, for a while, and travel in the country. We are well supplied with means.” This advice took his fancy and we set out for a part of the country noted for the beauty of its estates, and where not a few of our acquaintances were enjoying the sports of the season. Scarcely had we covered half the distance, however, before it began to pour down rain by the bucketful, compelling us to run for the nearest villa
