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76 ARIADNE.mountains, dusky against the light, with floatingvapours veiling them, andhalfhidingsome ruinedfortress or walled village,or somepile,half palaceand half prison, sethigh upon their ridges; andever and again,uponsome spur of them or eminence,thereis some old grey city,mighty in thepast and still in fame immortal; Cortona, withits citadel like a toweringrock, enthroned aloft;Assisi,sacred and grey upon the high hill-top;Spoleto,lovely in her ancientness as any dream,with calm deep woods around,and at her backthe purple cloud-swept heights that bear itsname;Perugia Augusta, with domes and towers,cupolas and castles,endless as a forest of stone;Foligno, grand and gaunt,and still and desolate,as all these cities are, their strength spent, theirfortresses useless,their errand clone, their geniusof war and art quenched with their beacon-fires;oneby one they succeed one another in the longpanoramaof the Appenine range;woodandwater,and corn and orchard, all beneath them andaround them, fruitful and inpeace, and in theirmidst, lone Trasimene, soundless and windless,with the silvery birds at rest upon its silvery