Every one was inspired by the gorgeous sight. The emperor, looking at the retreating shores of Neapolis, pointed out to his companions the different villas that had once belonged to Cicero, Lucullus, and Augustus. Some of the party recited poetry; the Greeks sang extracts from the Odyssey; Nerva quoted the following lines of Virgil:—
“Nor Oebalus, shalt thou unsung from this our story fail,
Whom Telon on nymph Sebethis begat, as tells the tale;
When Teleboan Capreae he reigned o’er, waxen old;
Whose son might not abide to sit within his father’s fold.”
Caligula and the lad Tiberius amused themselves by watching the fishermen haul their nets and the little nude boys rock small boats whose edges gathered in water at every roll. Every one seemed happy on this delightful day. It seemed impossible that such tranquillity and beauty could ever be ruffled by storms and tempests.
As the mainland grew more and more indistinct, the villas on the north side of Capri gradually became more sharply defined. From the gray rock, dotted with brush and small trees, gradually came into view the bold marble-columned front of one of the palaces built by Augustus. The bireme took a course to the south of the island, towards the palace where Augustus spent the last days of his life. This palace was more inaccessible than the others. No one could approach it without being seen by the occupants.
When the imperial party had arrived at their destination, small boats conveyed them to the shore. When he entered the palace, Tiberius heaved a sigh, and said to Sejanus, “Thanks be to the gods! We have at last arrived! Now I am safe from the intrigues of Rome! Ah, Sejanus, we should have sooner begun the Villa Jovis. In one month I shall be higher up the cliffs, where only the winds can reach me.”
“Didst thou say that the Divine Augustus lived in this palace shortly before he died at Nola?”
“Ay, within these very walls, weak as he was, he composed Greek verses. Come with me!” he exclaimed, as he led Sejanus from the palace. They slowly walked to the edge of the cliff. “Yonder,” said Tiberius, “on the largest of these islands that stand like sentinels guarding the approach to the landing, the poet Masgabus is buried, and— By the infernal Deities, what is that object moving towards us?” he cried in a tone of fear.