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Of sleep and quiet dews. And hark! the bird of night
Chimes in, and strives with these in blest endeavour;
For nought can music from refulgence sever;
Ordained in earth and heaven companions ever.
How glorious such existence, magic flies!
Ye live and move in light, and light is paradise.

Florence, June, 1844.



HEN Venice, save in name, shall be no more,

And the lagoon shall o'er her marbles flow, If to her former place from the low shore

Some English Bard in pilgrim's weeds shall row;

Before his mental eye, as in a glass,

Long files of Doges wedded to the sea, Or pomp of tournaments, or will there pass

The virgin Brides, afloat with minstrelsy?

Rather for him will hover o'er the deep

Her scenery of Palace, Bridge, and Tower, Peopled with forms in tragic robes that

sweep; Jaffier—the Jew—the Merchant-and the Moor.

Venice, July, 1844.


A :

T Venice hourly by the marble quays

The steam-ship thrusts aside the gondolas:
At Venice the long railway duct divides
(Unnatural isthmus) the laguna's tides :
Well may romantic youths and maidens craze !
The world reels onwards. He that thinks and feels
Stands not to be cast down beneath the wheels
Of change. So fares the man who stands at gaze.
And with the graces flown of ancient days,
We would believe an epoch is begun
For coming triumphs, to be ranked among
The loftiest themes that swell the poet's song,
By revolutions bringing round a sun
To melt away all intellectual haze.

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E cannot choose but sing,

This consecrated floor who treads,
“ The King of Glory shall come in :
Ye Gates, lift up your

The soul expands, and sends the eye
Unawed to scan, around, on high,
This Fane, than whose no pillars give
A nobler range of perspective.
So in majestic order sweep

Unnumbered files of loftiest stems

Sublimed with leafy diadems

In Indian forests deep :
And, as the sunset shoots through forest glades,

Celestial groups, in many a burning row,
Chequering the gloom religious that pervades
The combinations of this saintly show,

From the painted glass descend,

In rich variety to blend Their hues with tones the breathing organ flings About the whole, in sound's harmonious colourings. And now the winding marble stair

High as the Temple's outward roof
Hath led me : 'tis no spot where fear

Stands from the brink aloof.
Here seeming trellised gardens, here
Fruits, flowers, and foliage, hang in air;
And pendent terraced walks are made,
Diversified with light and shade;
And traceries with patience wrought,

All of the carver's teeming brain,

In marble without streak or stain,

From Alpine quarries brought.
And art exulting in her power and riches,

Adds solemn forms, read of in scripture stories,
Kneeling or standing in their shadowy niches ;
And, chief of all, among these sculptured glories,

Saints, angels, human and divine,

Consummating this vast design, On snow-white pinnacles rise high and higher, To where, in gold, the Virgin tops the far-seen spire !

Beneath, the guardianed city lies:

Beyond, with vine-grown plains between,
The Alps, uniting earth and skies,

In horizontal sheen
Glassing the purity of heaven,

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