Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
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VENICE. |
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 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
VENICE.
1.
Fair Venice! scarce less fair than in the prideOf better Days, when glory's golden Wing
Fanned thy victorious Waves, and Earth would ring
With thy most high exploits, for still abide
The relics of the Past: Time cannot hide
All traces of thy Majesty, nor bring
Such memories low; and tho' a forlorn Thing,
Yet hast thou tenfold Might to stir the Tide
Of holiest sympathies: oh it would need
A Heart of stone to see thee and not weep,
Thus sinking 'neath harsh Desolation's tread,
A dim Sunset into old Adria's Deep,
Whence thou erst rose, a Dayspring on the Sleep
Of Worlds benighted, Heroes, Commerce, Arts to breed!
2.
Yes, thou didst spring a fair and goodly Tree,Of many Centuries' growth, and 'neath thy shade
The Nations sat; yet have we seen thee fade
With scarce enough of life and memory
To mourn the thing thou art! and on thy high
And haughty dwellings patriotgrief has made
His sad memorials, in wrath has bade
The dumb Walls curse the Tyrant! it doth weigh
Like some misshapen Dream upon the Mind,
Too huge for Grasping, and we turn away
From the dim Vision of our Thought, and try
In mere Reality Relief to find,
But lo! it rises sadder on the Eye,
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3.
And when we have o'erpassed the narrow SpaceOf Waters, which that City round Embrace,
And sever in real Fact unto our Sight,
As to our Fancy it stands severed quite
From common Things, unique in Time and Place,
It seems not as if we had passed alone
Those few Miles, but as if a Gulf were thrown
Betwixt us and the World— yea, it doth seem
As if from real Life into some strange Dream
We had just stepp'd: as if the Present were
Forgot, and in its Place the Past stood there:
We lose all Consciousness of Self, and as
Spectres ourselves, 'mid Spectres onward pass,
Like our own Shadows: real Existence seems
Something we cannot grasp, a Life of Dreams!
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |