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!
SONG.—THOU REIGN'ST SUPREME.
Thou reign'st supreme, love, in my heart,
O'er every secret thought;
Thou canst not find the smallest part
Where thou abidest not.
All blest emotions, every sense
Are consecrate to thee;
Would that affection so intense,
But filled thy heart for me!
Thou reign'st supreme, love, eyes that burn
With the soul's restless fire,
Their liquid glances on me turn,
Yet no fond thoughts inspire.
E'en in that hour for thee I long,
Like a wild bird set free;
Ah! would that love so true and strong
But filled thy heart for me!