LISBON, FROM FORT ALMADA. Drawn by C. Stanfield, A.R.A. from a Sketch by W. Page. "What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold! Who lick, yet loathe, the hand that waves the sword, To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord. "But whoso entereth within this town, That sheening for celestial seems to be, No personage of high or mean degree Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt, Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwashed unhurt." Childe Harold, canto i. st. 16, 17. It is difficult to find a single author who has written upon Lisbon, without noticing, that when he has almost exhausted his terms of panegyric upon its beautiful situation and glorious appearance, he brings instantly into contrast with these, the language of utter contempt and disgust, at the filth and abominations of this worse than painted sepulchre. "As we entered Lisbon last year, after the convention of Cintra, by the roads leading to it from Vimeira,” says Colonel Leach, in his " Rough Sketches of the Life of an Old Soldier," "we had not, until now, so fair an opportunity of judging of its appearance from the Tagus. The country houses and convents on the side of most picturesque hills, thickly planted with vines; the legion of windmills near Belem; and, finally, the city itself, form altogether so enchanting a picture, that any attempt of mine to do justice must inevitably fail in toto. Besides, Lisbon and its river have been often described by far more able pens. How sadly is a stranger disappointed when he lands and traverses the dirty, rascally streets of this priest-ridden city, and wades, hour after hour, through one uninterrupted accumulation of disgusting filth, in which the inhabitants appear to glory and rejoice! Instead of being the most disreputable and dirty place in Europe (or perhaps on the globe), it might most assuredly be the very reverse. Above the city is one of the finest LISBON. aqueducts in the universe, from which almost every street might, with good management, be constantly washed, and every thing offensive carried down to the Tagus. But this, it appears, is quite foreign to Portuguese taste. Let them, therefore, vegetate in the old way, and luxuriate in the effluvia to which they have ever been accustomed." In the midst of all this, however, Lord Byron exhibits himself in one of his merriest moods: in writing to Mr. Hodgson from Lisbon, he says, "I am very happy here, because I loves oranges, and talk bad Latin to the monks, who understand it, as it is like their own; and I goes into society (with my pocket pistols), and I swims in the Tagus all across at once, and I rides on an ass or mule, and swears Portuguese, and have got a diarrhoea and bites from the musquitos; but what of that? comfort must not be expected by folks that go a-pleasuring." Of the particular scene which forms the subject of the annexed Plate, the best description is found to accompany Colonel Batty's view from nearly the same spot, in his "Select Views of the Cities of Europe,"Lisbon, from Almada. "Opposite to Lisbon stands Almada, on the summit, and near the east end, of the high cliffs, which extend along the south bank of the Tagus from thence to the sea. From this elevated situation we have a panoramic series of views of incomparable grandeur. To the north the whole expanse of Lisbon is seen covering the opposite hills, and forming a brilliant border to the Tagus. To the west, that noble river is seen continuing its majestic course, and flowing into the Atlantic ocean, between the distant towers of St. Julian and of Bugio; and to the east the river spreads out into a vast estuary, bounded by a long tract of level country. To the south the heights of Almada slope down into a valley covered with vineyards, behind which there is a gradual ascent of wooded hills, till, at a distance of several miles, the horizon is bounded by the mountainous ridge of the Serra d'Arabida, having the remarkable castle-crowned rock of Palmella towards the east, and the distant Moorish castle of Cezimbra towards the west. In the view annexed, the spectator is supposed to be looking up the river, in a north-east direction. Part of Lisbon occupies the left of the scene. The convent of the Penha de Franca stands on the most distant hill on that side. A little on the right, on the adjoining hill, is the chapel of Nossa Senhora da Monte. The castle is seen covering the hill yet farther to the right; and the towers of the church of St. Vincente, the place of interment of the Portuguese monarchs, crown the summit of the hill near the extremity of the city. In the line with the towers of St. Vincente, but nearer to the spectator, are the old |