IX. That is to say, if your religion 's Roman, Would rather dine in sin on a ragout Dine and be d-d! I do n't mean to be coarse, X. Of all the places where the Carnival Was most facetious in the days of yore, Venice the bell from every city bore,- XI. They 've pretty faces yet, those same Venetians, In ancient arts by moderns mimick'd ill; And like so many Venuses of Titian's (The best 's at Florence see it, if ye will,) They look when leaning over the balcony, XII. Whose tints are truth and beauty at their best; That picture (howsoever fine the rest) And that's the cause I rhyme upon it so : XIII. Love in full life and length, not love ideal, But something better still, so very real, That the sweet model must have been the same; A thing that you would purchase, beg, or steal, XIV. One of those forms which flit by us, when we Whose course and home we knew not, nor shall know XV. I said that like a picture by Giorgione (For beauty 's sometimes best set off afar) They peep from out the blind, or o'er the bar; XVI. For glances beget ogles, ogles sighs, Sighs wishes, wishes words, and words a letter, Who do such things because they know no better; Elopements, broken vows, and hearts, and heads. XVII. Shakspeare described the sex in Desdemona Such matters may be probably the same, (1) "Quæ septem dici sex tamen esse solent."-OVID. XVIII. Their jealousy (if they are ever jealous) Not like that sooty devil of Othello's Which smothers women in a bed of feather, His head for such a wife no mortal bothers, XIX. Didst ever see a Gondola? For fear You should not, I'll describe it you exactly : 'T is a long cover'd boat that 's common here, Carved at the prow, built lightly, but compactly, Row'd by two rowers, each call'd" Gondolier," It glides along the water looking blackly, Just like a coffin clapt in a canoe, Where none can make out what you say or do. XX. And up and down the long canals they go, But not to them do woful things belong, XXI. But to my story. - 'T was some years ago, Her real name I know not, nor can guess, XXII. She was not old, nor young, nor at the years A person yet by prayers, or bribes, or tears, XXIII. Laura was blooming still, had made the best And Laura's brow a frown had rarely bent, Indeed she shone all smiles, and seem'd to flatter Mankind with her black eyes for looking at her. XXIV. She was a married woman; 't is convenient, A well-timed wedding makes the scandal cool) I don't know how they ever can get over it, Except they manage never to discover it? XXV. Her husband sail'd upon the Adriatic, And made some voyages, too, in other seas, And when he lay in quarantine for pratique, (A forty days' precaution 'gainst disease) His wife would mount, at times, her highest attic, For thence she could discern the ship with ease: He was a merchant trading to Aleppo, His name Giuseppe, call'd more briefly, Beppo. (1) XXVI. He was a man as dusky as a Spaniard, Sunburnt with travel, yet a portly figure; Though colour'd, as it were, within a tanyard, He was a person both of sense and vigour A better seaman never yet did man yard: And she, although her manners show'd no rigou Was deem'd a woman of the strictest principle, So much as to be thought almost invincible. (1) Beppo is the Joe of the Italian Joseph, XXVII. But several years elapsed since they had met; Some people thought the ship was lost, and some That he had somehow blunder'd into debt, And did not like the thought of steering home; And there were several offer'd any bet, Or that he would, or that he would not come, For most men (till by losing render'd sager) Will back their own opinions with a wager. XXVIII. "T is said that their last parting was pathetic, Which I have known occur in two or three,) XXIX. And Laura waited long, and wept a little, And thought of wearing weeds, as well she might; She almost lost all appetite for victual, And could not sleep with ease alone at night; She deem'd the window-frames and shutters brittle Against a daring housebreaker or sprite, And so she thought it prudent to connect her With a vice-husband, chiefly to protect her. XXX. She chose, (and what is there they will not choose, A coxcomb was he by the public voice; XXXI. And then he was a Count, and then he knew Music, and dancing, fiddling, French and Tuscan; The last not easy, be it known to you, For few Italians speak the right Etruscan. |