IV. But unto us she hath a spell beyond And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away V. The beings of the mind are not of clay; 330 35 The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord; St. Mark yet sees his lion, where he stood, XII. The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian reigns - 55 50 From Power's high pinnacle, when they have felt XIII. Before St. Mark still glow his steeds of brass, XIV. In youth she was all glory, a new Tyre, The 66 Planter of the Lion," which through fire For ye are names no time nor tyranny can blight. 60 65 70 75 80 But where they dwelt, the vast and sumptuous pile Bespeaks the pageant of their splendid trust; 85 Their sceptre broken, and their sword in rust, Have yielded to the stranger: empty halls, Thin streets, and foreign aspects, such as must Have flung a desolate cloud o'er Venice' lovely walls. 90 XVI. When Athens' armies fell at Syracuse, And fetter'd thousands bore the yoke of war, See! as they chant the tragic hymn, the car 95 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, 100 105 most of all, Albion to thee: the Ocean Queen should not Of Venice think of thine, despite thy watery wall. XVIII. I loved her from my boyhood Was as a fairy city of the heart, she to me 110 Rising like water-columns from the sea, Of joy the sojourn, and of wealth the mart; And Otway, Radcliffe, Schiller, Shakespeare's art, Although I found her thus, we did not part, Than when she was a boast, a marvel, and a show. 115 [CASCATA DEL MARMORE.] CHILDE HAROLD, CANTO IV. THE roar of waters! LXIX from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice; LXX. 5 And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again ΙΟ With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, Is an eternal April to the ground, Making it all one emerald: - how profound The gulf! and how the giant element From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound, Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rent. With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent LXXI. To the broad column which rolls on, and shows With many windings through the vale: Look back! As if to sweep down all things in its track, Charming the eye with dread, a matchless cataract, 15 20 25 LXXII. Horribly beautiful! but on the verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, 30 Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn Its steady dyes, when all around is torn By the distracted waters, bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn: Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, 35 Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won. CXLI. his eyes He heard it, but he heeded not All this rush'd with his blood- Shall he expire, And unavenged? — Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire! |