Part 3 — VENICE AS IT WAS, AND AS IT IS.

Bright glancing in the sun's last rays, The Fairy City rose to view: It seemed to "swim in air"—a blaze Of parting glory round she threw. Midst silent halls and mouldering towers, And trophies fallen from side to side, Awe-struck, I saw a few brief hours, The grave of Venice' ruined pride. Light from her native surge she sprung, The Venus of the Adrian wave; And o'er the admiring nations flung The spell of "Beautiful and Brave" Her Winged Lion's terror shook The Sultan's throne:—o'er prostrate piles, "Breaker of Chains," she proudly spoke Her mandate to a hundred isles. Astonished Europe saw that hour Her blind old chieftain guide her wars, And twice, in one brief season, pour Her fury on Byzantium's towers! Saw when in Mark's proud porch, Abased in dust the eastern crown was laid. And when, with frantic pride, she placed Her foot on Barbarosa's head! Gone, like a dream! wealth, pomp and power! And Learning's toils, so nobly urged! Doomed 'neath a tyrant's lash to cower, She gnaws the chain she once had forged. And still that tyrant bids to stand, In mockery of her former state, Those emblems of her wide command, The three tall Masts where glory sate: And high upreared on column proud, And glancing to the wide-spread sea, Her Winged Lion stands, aloud To tell a nation's infamy! Oh, how unlike the day, when round Those Masts and 'neath that Lion's wings, Exulting thousands thronged the ground, And spoke the fate of distant kings. When brightly in the morning beam Her galleys, ranged in stern array, Impatient stood, till Pontiffs came To bless the parting warrior's way. They go beneath the drum's long roll, The cymbal's clang, the trumpet's breath; While Beauty's glances fire the soul, And Honor smooths the road to death. Tread now that court! The unbended sail Flaps idly in the passing wind; And dark below, each dull canal Is stagnant as its owner's mind! Yet here, how many a burning soul Has poured at moonlit eve the song, While conscious Beauty, panting, stole To hear the strain her praise prolong! Hark to that shout! Her nobles come, In many a galley ranged, and gay With waving flag and nodding plume, To grace fair Venice' bridal day. See! on the foremost prow, a king In form—eye—soul!—again The exulting Doge has cast the ring That weds him to the Adrian Main! Mark now that wretch with downcast eye, And abject mien, once free, once brave! It is the People's Doge! and he Is now an Austrian tyrant's slave.[4] And she, the Beautiful One, lies Fallen to earth; while by her side Moulder her towers and palaces, The grave of Venice' ruined pride!