NO. 4. VENICE.
PEED, gondolier, speed, o'er the
lonely lagoon,
To the distant piazetta
Where dwells my Minetta,
Lest envious Aurora surprise us too
soon.
Sing, gondolier, sing, with a heart
full as mine—
Though thy larynx be wheezy
And singing's not easy
Whilst guiding a vessel so tub-like as thine.
Cease, gondolier, cease; 'twas an exquisite air—
But we've reach'd the Rialto,
So hand me that paletot;
And tell me, my gondolier, what is thy fare?