H. P. Lovecraft
Groups of citizensโbroad-browed Roman colonists and coarse-haired Romanised natives, together with obvious hybrids of the two strains, alike clad in cheap woollen togasโand sprinklings of helmeted legionaries and coarse-mantled, black-bearded tribesmen of the circumambient Vasconesโall thronged the few paved streets and forum; moved by some vague and ill-defined uneasiness.
The hills rose scarlet and gold to the north of the little town, and the westering sun shone ruddily and mystically on the crude new stone and plaster buildings of the dusty forum and the wooden walls of the circus some distance to the east.
So here we all were in the mystic sunset of the autumn hills โ old Scribonius Libo in his toga prรฆtexta, the golden light glancing on his shiny bald head and wrinkled hawk face, Balbutius with his gleaming helmet and breastplate, blue-shaven lips compressed in conscientiously dogged opposition, young Asellius with his polished greaves and superior sneer, and the curious throng of townsfolk, legionaries, tribesmen, peasants, lictors, slaves, and attendants.