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VI. Such is the refuge of our youth and age, The first from Hope, the last from Vacancy; And this worn feeling peoples many a page, And, may be, that which grows beneath mine eye: Yet there are things whose strong reality Outshines our fairy-land; in shape and hues More beautiful than our fantastik sky, And the strange constellations which the Musc O'er her wild universe is skilful to diffuse:

VII. I saw or dream'd of such,

but let them go They came like truth, and disappear'd like dreams; And whatsoe'er they were are now but so: I could replace them if I would, still teems My wind with many a form which aptly seems Such as I sought for, and at moments found; Let these too go

- for waking Reason deems Such over - Weening phantasies unsound, And other voices speak, and other sights, surround. VIII. I've taught me other tongues and in strange eyes. Have made me not a stranger; to the mind Which is itself, no changes bring surprise; Nor is it harsh to make, nor hard to find A country with - ay, or without mankind; Yet was I born where men are proud to be, Not without cause; and should I leave behind The inviolate island of the sage and free, And seek me out a home by a remoter sea,

if we may

IX. Perhaps I loved it well: and should I lay My ashes in a soil which is not mine, My spirit shall resume it Unbodied choose a sanctuary. I twine My hopes of being remember'd in my line With my land's language: if too fond and far These aspirations in their scope incline, If my fame should be, as my fortunes are, Of hasty growth and blight, and dull Oblivion bar

G

VOL. VII.

X. My name from out the temple where the dead Are honour'd by the nations let it be And light the laurels on a loftier head! And be the Spartan's epitaph on me “Sparta

hath many a worthier son than he. » Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need; The throns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted, they have torn me, and I bleed: I should have known what fruit would spring from

such a seed.

XI. 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 s Stand, but in mockery of his wither'd power, Over the proul Place where an Emperor sued, And monarchs gazed and envied in the hour When Venice was a queen with an unequall'd dower.

XII. The Suabian sued, and now the Ausrian reigns - 6, An 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 honr of blind old Dandolo! 7 Th’ octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe.

XIII. Before St. Mark still glow his steeds of brass, Their gilded collars glittering in the sun; But is not Doria's menace come to pass ? 8 Are they not bridled ? Venice, lost and won, Her thirteen hundred years of freedom done, Sinks, like a sea - weed, into whence she rose! Better be whelm'd beneath the waves, and shun,

, Even in destruction's depth, her foreign foes, From whom submission wrings an infamous repose.

XIV. In youth she was all glory, - a new Tyre, Her very by-word sprung from victory, The “Planter of the Lion,” 9 which through fire And blood she bore o'er subject carth and sea; Though making many slaves, herself still free, And Europe's bulwark 'gainst the Ottomite; Witness Troy's rival, Candia! Vouch it, ye Inmortal waves that saw Lepanto's fight! For ye are names no time nor tyranny can blight.

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XV. Statues of glass all shiver'd the long file Of her dead Doges are declined to dust; But where they dwelt, the vast and sumptuous pile Bespeaks the pageant of their splendid trust; Their sceptre broken, and their sword in rust, Have yielded to the stranger: cmpty halls, Thin streets, and foreign aspects, such as must Too oft remind her who and what enthrals, so Haveflung a desolate cloud o'er Venice' lovely walls.

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