But is not DORIA's menace come to pass ?8 XIV. In youth she was all glory,a new TYRE, >> which through fire Her very by-word sprung from victory XV. Statues of glass-all shiver'd-the long file Of her dead Doges are declin'd to dust; But where they dwelt, the vast and sumptuous pile Their sceptre broken, and their sword in rust, * Plant the Lion- that is, the Lion of St. Mark, the standard of the republic, which is the origin of the word Pantaloon - Pianta-leone, Pantaleon, Pantaloon. Have yielded to the stranger: empty halls, Thin streets, and foreign aspects, such as must Too oft remind her who and what enthrals, 9 Have flung a desolate cloud, o'er VENICE' lovely walls. XVI. When ATHENS' armies fell at SYRACUSE, And fetter'd thousands bore the yoke of war, Redemption rose up in the Attic Muse, Her voice their only ransom from afar : * See! as they chant the tragic hymn, the car Of the o'ermaster'd victor stops, the reins Fall from his hands-his idle scimitar Starts from its belt-he rends his captive's chains, And bids him thank the bard, for freedom and his strains. XVII. Thus, VENICE, if no stronger claim were thine, Were all thy proud historic, deeds forgot, OF VENICE, THINK OF THINE, DESPITE THY WATERY WALL." The story is told in Plutarch's life of Nicias. XVIII. I lov'd her from my boyhood-she to me Of joy the sojurn, and of wealth the mart; I can repeople with the past-and of The present there is still for eye and thought, And meditation chasten'd down, enough: * And more, it may be, than I hoped or sought; From thee, fair VENICE ! have their colours caught: There are some feelings Time can not benumb, Nor Torture shake, or mine would now be cold and dumb. XX. But from their nature will the tannen grow 10 Loftiest on loftiest and least shelter'd rocks; Rooted in barreness, where nought below * Venice Preserved; Mysteries of Udolpho; the Ghost-seer, or Armenian; the Merchant of Venice; Othel. Of soil supports them 'gainst the Alpine shocks XXI. Existence may be borne, and the deep root XXII. the same. All suffering doth destroy, or is destroy'd, Return to whence they came-with like intent, And weave their web again; some, bow'd and bent, Wax grey and ghastly, withering ere their time, And perish with the reed on which they leant; Some seek devotion, toil, war, good or crime, According as their souls, were form'd to sink or climb : XXIII. But ever and anon of griefs subdued There comes a token like a scorpion's sting, but with fresh bitterness imbued; Scarce seen, And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling A tone of music,-summer's eve-or spring, A flower-the wind-the Ocean-which shall wound, Striking the electric chain, wherewith we are darkly bound; XXIV. And how and why we know not, nor can trace Home to its cloud this lightning of the mind, But feel the shock renew'd, nor can efface The blight and blackening which it leaves behind, When least we deem of such, calls up to view The spectres whom no exorcism can bind, The cold-the changed-perchance the dead-anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost-too many!-yet how few! But XXV. my soul wanders; I demand it back To meditate amongst decay and stand A ruin amidst ruins; there to track Fall'n states and buried greatness, o'er a land |