The Last Days of Pompeii by Edward Bulwer-lytton

FOLLOWED by Apaecides, the Nazarene gained the side of the Sarnus -- that / river, which now has shrunk into a petty stream, then rushed gaily into / the sea, covered with countless vessels, and reflecting on its waves the / gardens, the vines, the palaces, and the temples of Pompeii. From its / more noisy and frequented banks, Olinthus directed his steps to a path / which ran amidst a shady vista of trees, at the distance of a few paces / from the river. This walk was in the evening a favorite resort of the / Pompeians, but during the heat and business of the day was seldom / visited, save by some groups of playful children, some meditative poet, / or some disputative philosophers. At the side farthest from the river, / frequent copses of box interspersed the more delicate and evanescent / foliage, and these were cut into a thousand quaint shapes, sometimes / into the forms of fauns and satyrs, sometimes into the mimicry of / Egyptian pyramids, sometimes into the letters that composed the name of / a popular or eminent citizen. Thus the false taste is equally ancient / as the pure; and the retired traders of Hackney and Paddington, a / century ago, were little aware, perhaps, that in their tortured yews and / sculptured box, they found their models in the most polished period of / Roman antiquity, in the gardens of Pompeii, and the villas of the / fastidious Pliny.

This walk now, as the noonday sun shone perpendicularly through the / chequered leaves, was entirely deserted; at least no other forms than / those of Olinthus and the priest infringed upon the solitude. They sat / themselves on one of the benches, placed at intervals between the trees, / and facing the faint breeze that came languidly from the river, whose / waves danced and sparkled before them -- a singular and contrasted pair; / the believer in the latest -- the priest of the most ancient -- worship of / the world!