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When with her countless barks she went
Venice. To meet the Orient Empire's might, The Fall of Venice not to be lamented. And the Giustinianis sent
Former Glory. Expedition against Their hundred heroes to that fight.”
Hurls to the dust the guilty Great)
Are all the outrage, falsehood, fraud, MOURN not for Venice--let her rest
The chains, the rapine, and the blood, In ruin, 'mong those. States unblessed, That filled each spot, at home, abroad, Beneath whose guilded hoofs of pride,
Where the Republic's standard stood ! Where'er they trampled, Freedom died. No-let us keep our tears for them, Desolate Venice ! when I track Where'er they pine, whose fall hath Thy haugiity course through centuries been
back, Not from a blood-stained diadem, Thy ruthless power, obeyed but Like that which decked this ocean
The stern machinery of thy State, But from high daring in the cause Which hatred would, like steam, have
Of human Rights—the only good burst, And blessed strite, in which man draws Had stronger fear not chilled even His powerful sword on land or flood.
Thy perfidy, still worse than aught Mourn not for Venice—though her fall Thy own unblushing Sarpið taught, Be awful, as if Ocean's wave
Thy friendship, which, o'er all beneath Swept o'er her-she deserves it all, Its shadow, rained down dews of And Justice triumphs o'er her grave.
death, 4Thus perish every King and State Thy Oligarchy's Book of Gold,
That run the guilty race she ran, Shut against humble Virtue's name, Strong but in fear, and only great But opened wide for slaves who sold By outrage against God and man! Their native land to thee and
shame, True, her high spirit is at rest, Thy all-pervading host of spies,
And all those days of glory gone, Watching o'er every glance and When the world's waters, east and west, breath, Beneath her white-winged commerce Till men looked in each other's eyes, shone;
To read their chance of life or death,
Under the Doge Michaeli, in 1171.
dependencies, particularly to unfortunate Padui. 2 La famille entière des Justiniani, l'une des -Fate of Francesco Carrara, for which see Duru, plus illustres de Venise, voulut marcher toute vol.ii. p. 141. entière dans cette expedition : elle fournit cent 5 'A l'exception des trente citadins admis ar combattans : c'était
renouveler l'exemple d'une grand conseil pendant la guerre de Chiozzi, il illustre famille de Rome; le même malheur les n'est pas arrivé une seule fois que les talens attendait.-Histoire de Venise, par Daru. ou les services aient paru à cette noblesse
3 The celebrated Fra Paolo. The collection of orgueilleuse_des titres suffisans pour s'asseoir maxims which this bold monk drew up, at the avec elle.'-Daru. request of the Venetian Government, for the 6 Among those admitted to the honour of guidance of the Secret Inquisition of State, are so being inscribed in the Libro d'Oro were some atrocious as to seem rather an over-charged families of Brescia, Treviso, and other places, satire upon despotism, than a system of policy whose only claim to that distinction was the seriously inculcated, and but tou readily and con- zeal with which they prostrated themselves and stantly pursued.
their country at the feet of the republic. • Conduct of Venice towards her allies and
Thy laws, that made a mart of blood, Let me, a moment, think what thou
And legalized the assassin's knife,- sands live
Gladly, whole sleepless nights to bend When I review all this, and see
the brow What thou art sunk and crushed to Over these precious leaves, as I do
now; Each harpy maxim, hatched by thee, How all who know-and where is he Returned to roost on thy own unknowu ? brow,
To what far region have his songs not Thy Nobles towering once aloft,
flown, Now sunk iu chaios-in chains, that Like Psaphon's birds, i speaking their have
master's name Not even that borrowed grace, which oft In every language syllabled by Fame?
The master's fame shedso'er the slave, How all, who've felt the various spells But are as mean as e'er were given,
combined To stiff necked Pride by angry Within the circle of that splendid mind, Heaven
Like powers, derived from many a star, I feel the moral vengeance sweet,
and met And, smiling o'er the wreck, repeat- Together in some wondrous amulet, Thus perish every King and State, Would burn to know when first the That tread the steps which Venice light awoke trod,
In his young soul,--and if the gleams Strong but in fear, and only great
that broke By outrage against man and God ! From that Aurora of his genius, raised
More bliss or pain in those on whom
they blazedEXTRACT III.
Would love to trace the unfolding of
Venice. L-d B-'83 Memoirs, written by him- Which hath grown ampler, grander, self.-Reflections, when about to read every hour; them.
And feel, in watching o'er its first
advance, · LET me, a moment, ere with fear and As did the Egyptian traveller," when hope
he stood Of gloomy, glorious things, these leaves By the young Nile, and fathomed with I ope
his lance As one, in fairy tale, to whom the key The first small fountains of that Of some enchanter's secret halls is mighty flood.
given, Doubts, while he enters, slowly, trem. They, too, who ?mid the scorvful blingly,
thoughts that dwell If he shall meet with shapes from In his rich fancy, tinging all its hell or heaven
i By the infamous statutes of the State Inquisi- ? 'Les prisons des plombs ; c'est-à-dire ces tion not only was assassination recognised as a fournaises ardentes qu'on avait distribuées en regular mode of punishment, but this secret petites cellules sous les terrasses qui couvrent le power over lile was delegated to their minions at palais.'
Byron. a distance, with nearly as much facility as a * Psaphon, in order to attract the attention of licence is given under the game laws of England. the world, taught multitudes of kirds to speak The only restriction seems to have been the his name, and then let them fly away in various necessity of applying for a new certificate after directions: whence the proverb, Psaphonis aves. every individual exercise of the power.
As if the Star of Bitterness which fell Of generous aid, given with that noiseOn earth of old, and touched them less art with its beams,
Which wakes not pride, to many Can track a spirit, which, though driven wounded heartto hate,
Of acts—but, no—not from himself From Nature's hands same kind, affec
must aught tionate ;
Of the bright features of his life be And which, even now, struck as it is sought. with blight,
While they who court the world, like Comes out, at times, in love's own Milton's cloud, native light-
• Turn forth their silver lining' on the How gladly all, who've watched these crowd, struggling rays
This gifted Being wraps himself in Of a bright, ruined spirit through his night, lays,
And, keeping all that softens, and Would here. inquire, as from his own adorns, frank lips,
And gilds his social nature, hid from What desolating grief, what wrongs sight, had driven
Turns but its darkness on a world he That noble nature into cold eclipseLike some fair orb that, once a sun
in Heaven, And born, not only to surprise, but
EXTRACT IV. cheer
Venice. With warmth and lustre all within its The English to be met with everywhere.sphere,
'Alps and Threadneedle Street. - The Is now
so quenched, that, of its Simplon and the Stocks. — Rage for grandeur, lasts
Travelling. - Blue Stockings among the Nought but the wide cold shadow which Wahabees.-Parasols and Pyramids. it casts!
-Mrs. Hopkins and the Wall of China.
And is there then no earthly place Eventful volume! whatsoe'er the change Where we can rest, in dream Elysian, Of scene and clime—the adventures, Without some cursed, round English bold and strange
face, Thegriefs—thefrailties, but too frankly Popping up near, to break the vision?
toldThe loves, the feuds thy pages may 'Mid northern lakes, 'mid southern unfold;
vines, If truth with half so prompt a hand
Unholy cits we're doomed to meet; unlocks
Nor highest Alps nor Apennines His virtues as his failings, we shall
Aresacred from Threadneedle Street! find The record there of friendships, held Fancying we leave this world behind,
If up the Simplon's path we wind, like rocks, And enmities, likesun-touched snow, As—Baddish news from 'Change, my
Such pleasant sounds salute one's ear resigned
dearOf fealty, cherished without change or chill,
The Funds -(phew, curse this ugly In those who served him young, and
hill !) serve him still
Are lowering fast-(what! higher still :)
I'Did a sable cloud
And—(zooks, we're mounting up to That feeling which, after long years heaven !)—
are gone by, Will soon be down to sixty-seven.' Remains like a portrait we've sat for Go where we may, rest where we will, Where, even though the Aush of the
in youth, Eternal London haunts us still.
colours may fly, The trash of Almack's or Fleet-Ditch
The features still live in their first Aud scarce a pin's head difference
smiling truth; which Mixes, though even to Greece we run,
That union, where all that in Woman With every rill from Helicon !
is kind, And, if this rage for travelling lasts,
With all that in man most enIf Cockneys, of all sects and castes, noblingly towers, Old inaidens, aldermen, and squires,
Grow wreathed into one like the Will leave their puddings and coal fires, coluinn, combined To gape at things in foreign lands Of the strength of the shaft and the No soul among them understands- capital's flowers. If Blues desert their coteries,
Of this-bear ye witness, ye wives, To show off ’mong the Wahabees
everywhere, If neither sex nor age controls,
By the Arno, the Po, by all Italy's Nor fear of Mamelukes forbids
streamsYoung ladies, with pink parasols,
Of this heart-wedded love, so delicious To glide among the pyramids?
to share, Why, then, farewell all hope to find
Not a husband hath even one glimpse A spot that's free from London-kind !
in his dreams. Who knows, if to the West we roam, But we may find some Blue 'at home' But it is not this only—born, full of Among the Blacks of Carolina,
the light Or, flying to the Eastward, see
Of a sun, from whose fount the Some Mrs. Hopkins, taking tea
luxuriant festoons And toast upon the Wall of China ! Of these beautiful valleys drink lustre
so bright, That, beside him, our suns of the
north are but moons ! EXTRACT V.
We might fancy, at least, like their No-'tis not the region where love's to climate they burned, be found
And that love, though unused, in They have bosoms that sigh, they this region of spring, have glances that rove,
To be thus to a tame Household Deity They have language a Sappho's own lip turned, might resound,
Would yet be all soul, when abroad When she warbled her best-but. on the wing they've nothing like Love.
And there may be, there are those exNor is it that sentiment only they want, plosions of heart, Which Heaven for the pure and the
Which burst, when the senses have tranquil hath made
first caught the flame ; Calm, wedded affection, that home - Such fits of the blood as those climates rooted plant,
impart, Which sweetens seclusion, and smiles Where Love is a sunstroke that in the shade ;
maddens the frame.
? It was pink spencers, I believe, that the imagination of the French traveller conjured up.
But that Passion, which springs in the | Where nought of those innocent doubts depth of the scul,
can exist, Whose beginnings are virginly pure That ignorance, even than knowledgo as the source
more bright, Of some mountainous rivulet, destined Which circles the young, like the to roll
morn's sunny mist, As a torrent, ere long, losing peace in And curtains them round in their its course
own native lightA course, to which Modesty's struggle Where Experience leaves nothing for but lends
Love to reveal, A more headlong descent, without
Or for Fancy, in visions, to gleam chance of recall;
o'er the thought, But which Modestý even to the last But the truths which alone we would
die to conceal edge attends, And, at length, throws a halo of tears
From the maiden's young heart, are round its fall !
the only ones taughtThis exquisite Passiou-ay, exquisite,
Oh no—'tis not here, howsoever we're
Whether purely to Hymen's one In the ruin its madness too often hath made,
planet we pray, As it keeps, even then, a bright trace Or adore, like Sabæans, each light of of the heaven,
Here is not the region to fix or to The heaven of Virtue, from which it has strayed
For, faithless in wedlock, in gallantry This entireness of love, which can only
gross, be found
Without honour to guard, or reserve Where Woman, like something that's to restrain, holy, watched over,
What have they a husband can mourn And fenced, from her childhood, with
as a loss? purity round,
What have they a lover can prize as Comes, body and soul, fresh as Spring,
a gain? to a lover!
Where not an eye answers, where not a
Rome. Till spirit with spirit in sympathy
Reflections on reading Du Cerceau's move; And the Senses, asleep in their sacred
Account of the Conspiracy of Rienzi in
1347.-The Mecting of the Conspirators recesses, Can only be reached thrcugh the
on the night of the 19th of May. Temple of Love'
Their Procession in the Morning to the
Capitol. — Rienzi's Speech. This perfection of Passion-how can it 'Twas a proud moment - even to hear be found,
the words Where the mysteries Nature hath Of Truth and Freedom 'mid these hung round the tie
temples breathed, By which souls are together attracted And see once more, the Forum shine and bound,
with swords, Are laid open, for ever, to heart, ear, In the Republic's sacred name un.