The Disdar Aga, a somewhat
more approximative personage, now entered the tottering chardak, (the
carpenters of Semendria seem to have emigrated _en masse_,) and
proffered himself as Cicerone of the castle.
Mean and abominable huts, with patches of garden ground filled up the
space inclosed by the gorgeous ramparts and massive towers of
Semendria. The further we walked the nobler appeared the last relic of
the dotage of old feudal Servia. In one of the towers next the Danube
is a sculptured Roman tombstone. One graceful figure points to a
sarcophagus, close to which a female sits in tears; in a word, a
remnant of the antique--of that harmony which dies not away, but
swells on the finer organs of perception.
"_Eski, Eski_. Very old," said the Disdar Aga, who accompanied me.
"It is Roman," said I.
"_Roumgi_?" said he, thinking I meant _Greek_.
"No, _Latinski_," said a third, which is the name usually given to
_Roman_ remains.
As at Sokol and Ushitza, I was not permitted to enter the inner
citadel;[18] so, returning to the gate, where we were rejoined by the
soldiers, we went to the fourth tower, on the left of the Stamboul
Kapu, and looking up, we saw inserted and forming part of the wall, a
large stone, on which was cut, in _basso rilievo_, a figure of Europa
reposing on a bull.
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