Of Lago Morto, dreary sight and name,
Which o’er sad thoughts a sadder colouring threw.
Italia! on the surface of thy spirit,
(Too aptly emblemed by that torpid lake) 10
Shall a few partial breezes only creep?—
Be its depths quickened; what thou dost inherit
Of the world’s hopes, dare to fulfil; awake,
Mother of Heroes, from thy death-like sleep!
[159] They left Venice by the Nuova Strada de Allmagna, resting at Logerone, Sillian, Spittal (in Carinthia), and thence on to Salzburg.—Ed.