The other, deep and slow, exhausting thought, 20 Which stung his foes to wrath, which grew from fear, And doom'd him to the zealot's ready Hell, Which answers to all doubts so eloquently well. Yet, peace be with their ashes, for by them, It is not ours to judge,-far less condemn; 30 The hour must come when such things shall be made Which, thus much we are sure, must lie decay'd; And when it shall revive, as is our trust, 'Twill be to be forgiven, or suffer what is just. I HAVE NOT LOVED THE WORLD (CANTO III, cxiii, cxiv) I have not loved the world, nor the world me; Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles,-nor cried aloud They could not deem me one of such; I stood Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could, Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued. I have not loved the world, nor the world me,— ΙΟ But let us part fair foes; I do believe, Though I have found them not, that there may be Words which are things, hopes which will not deceive, And virtues which are merciful, nor weave Snares for the failing; I would also deem O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve; That two, or one, are almost what they seem,That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream. VENICE (CANTO IV, i-iv, xi-xviii) I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; I saw from out the wave her structures rise O'er the far times, when many a subject land Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles ! She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, ΙΟ And such she was ;-her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. In purple was she robed, and of her feast Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increased. In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, 20 But unto us she hath a spell beyond Her name in story, and her long array Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord; And, annual marriage now no more renew'd, The Bucentaur lies rotting unrestored, Neglected garment of her widowhood! St. Mark yet sees his lion where he stood Stand, but in mockery of his wither'd power, Over the proud Place where an Emperor sued, And monarchs gazed and envied in the hour When Venice was a queen with an unequall'd dower. The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian reignsAn Emperor tramples where an Emperor knelt ; Kingdoms are shrunk to provinces, and chains Clank over sceptred cities; nations melt From power's high pinnacle, when they have felt The sunshine for a while, and downward go Like lauwine loosen'd from the mountain's belt; Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo ! Th' octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe. Before St. Mark still glow his steeds of brass, 30 40 51 60 In youth she was all glory, a new Tyre,— Statues of glass-all shiver'd-the long file 70 But where they dwelt, the vast and sumptuous pile When Athens' armies fell at Syracuse, 80 Starts from its belt-he rends his captive's chains, And bids him thank the bard for freedom and his strains. Thus, Venice, if no stronger claim were thine, Of Venice think of thine, despite thy watery wall 90 I loved her from my boyhood-she to me.. Rising like water-columns from the sea, Of joy the sojourn, and of wealth the mart; AN AUGUST EVENING IN ITALY (CANTO IV, xxvii–xxix) The Moon is up, and yet it is not nightSunset divides the sky with her a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains; Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be,Melted to one vast Iris of the West,Where the Day joins the past Eternity; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air-an island of the blest! A single star is at her side, and reigns With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still ΙΟ Which streams upon her stream, and glass'd within it glows, Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar, Comes down upon the waters; all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse : 20 |