She looks a sea Cybele fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Pour’d in her lap all gems in sparkling showers,
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deem’d their dignity increased.
In Venice Tasso’s echoes are no more,