Than live a thrall to Trade, a scourge to eyes and nose.
Dreams of Romance—all shattered! They revile
Our "Ruskinismo," do these souls of dust,
Who care not for their sumptuous marble pile,
Oh, sons unworthy of their splendid trust!
With his oar broken, and his dry keel thrust,
Unused ashore, the Gondolier recalls
Gay days and nights of glory, such as must
Too oft remind him who his land enthrals,
And flings a sordid cloud o'er Venice' shining walls.