'... the grace and grandeur of the scenes we had just left were in perfect unison with the deep-hearted and impassioned strains of Beethoven or Schubert; and the language they addressed to the ear renewed and deepened the impressions which the eye had brought home. We seemed to hear again the breezes sighing among the pines of the Campagna, or sweeping across the broken arches of the Claudian aqueduct. The melancholy beauty of the region we traversed appeared to live again in the composer's dreamy and ideal chords, and, like that, they seemed darkened with the shadow of vanished hopes, and strewed with the fragments of shattered ideals.'
from Six Months in Italy - George Stillman Hillard
