VIII.

TO VENICE.

Dishonour’d thou hast been, but not debased,
O Venice! he hastes onward who will bring
The girdle that enclosed thy virgin waist,
And will restore to thee thy bridal ring.
Venice! on earth are reptiles who lift high
The crested head, both venomous and strong
Are they; and many by their fangs shall die,
But one calm watcher crushes them ere long.

So fare who ever twists in tortuous ways,
Strown with smooth promises and broken vows,
Who values drunken shouts, not sober praise,
And spurns the scanty pittance Truth allows.