Nor prov’d the bliss that lulls Italia’s breast,
When red-brow’d evening calmly sinks to rest.
These lines, quoted from Merry’s Paulina, remind me of the pleasure we enjoyed in reading that glorious poem as we floated down the Brenta. I have certainly read no poetry since; that would be like looking at Sansovino’s sculpture, after having seen the Apollo, the Venus, and the Flora Farnese. The view of Venice only made us shut the book. Lovely Venice! wise in her councils, grave and steady in her just authority, splendid in her palaces, gay in her casinos, and charming in all.
Fama tra noi Roma pomposa e santa,
Venezia ricca, saggia, e signorile[32],
says the Italian who celebrates all their towns by adding a well-adapted epithet to each. But Sannazarius, who experienced in return for it more than even British bounty would have bestowed, exalts it in his famous epigram to a decided preference even over Rome itself.
Viderat Adriacis Venetam Neptunus in undis
Stare urbem, et toti ponere jura Mari;
Nunc mihi Tarpeias quantum vis Jupiter, arces