The only thing en route which roused me to sufficient energy to look about me, with something like admiration, were two equestrian statues at Piacenza, bronze and colossal, upon which the wreaths of snow hung in dismal garlands, giving such an air of stern misery to the sable giants as rendered them extremely picturesque. The piazza too, in which they stood, looked handsome, notwithstanding the miserable aspect under which we saw it.
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