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    Home»Poems»Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage [I stood in Venice]
    Poems

    Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage [I stood in Venice]

    Lord ByronBy Lord ByronMay 27, 2020Updated:February 4, 2022No Comments2 Mins Read
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        I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs,

        A palace and a prison on each hand:

        I saw from out the wave her structures rise

        As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:

        A thousand years their cloudy wings expand

        Around me, and a dying Glory smiles

        O’er the far times, when many a subject land

        Looked to the wingéd Lion’s marble piles,

    Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

        She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,

        Rising with her tiara of proud towers

        At airy distance, with majestic motion,

        A ruler of the waters and their powers:

        And such she was–her daughters had their dowers

        From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East

        Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers:

        In purple was she robed, and of her feast

    Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.

        In Venice Tasso’s echoes are no more,

        And silent rows the songless gondolier;

        Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,

        And music meets not always now the ear:

        Those days are gone–but Beauty still is here;

        States fall, arts fade–but Nature doth not die,

        Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,

        The pleasant place of all festivity,

    The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

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