 | A collection of original poems and translations |  |
12
Her Trade, her Arts, her Pleasures all his own,
Where next for Knowledge was Cornaro flown?
For a Soul's Banquet far he need not fly,
Venice, old Ocean's fairest Child, so nigh;
O'er the proud Adriatick where she stood,
That swells unenvious of the Tuscan Flood,
Tho' Naples, Florence on his Banks he names,
And to him Tiber pours from Rome his Streams.
When o'er the Continent fell Slav'ry flew,
Hither the Goddess Liberty withdrew;
Here plac'd her Cap, her Staff, her Armour here,
And, as her own fierce Sparta, held it dear.
Each Art and Science this their Dwelling own,
As Guardians to their Goddess Freedom's Throne;
And as her Hand-Maid busy Commerce toils,
Her Sister Goddess Plenty chearful smiles.
| A collection of original poems and translations | |