But let us try these truths with closer eyes,
And trace them through the prospect as it lies:
Here, for a while my proper cares resign’d,
Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind;
Like yon neglected shrub, at random cast,
That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast.
Far to the right, where Apennine ascends,
Bright as the summer, Italy extends:
Its uplands sloping deck the mountain’s side.
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride,
While oft some temple’s mouldering tops between
With venerable grandeur mark the scene.
[Illustration]
Could Nature’s bounty satisfy the breast,
The sons of Italy were surely bless’d.
Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground--
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whose bright succession decks the varied year--
Whatever sweets salute the northern sky,
With vernal lives, that blossom but to die--
These, here disporting, own the kindred soil,
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter’s toil;
While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand,
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
[Illustration]
But small the bliss that sense alone bestows,
And sensual bliss is all the nation knows;
In florid beauty groves and fields appear--
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here!
Contrasted faults through all his manners reign;
Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue--
And even in penance planning sins anew.
All evils here contaminate the mind,
That opulence departed leaves behind;
For wealth was theirs--nor far remov’d the date
When commerce proudly flourish’d through the state,
At her command the palace learn’d to rise,
Again the long-fall’n column sought the skies,
The canvas glow’d beyond even nature warm,
The pregnant quarry teem’d with human form;
Till, more unsteady than the southern gale,
Commerce on other shores display’d her sail,
While nought remain’d of all that riches gave,
But towns unmann’d, and lords without a slave--
And late the nation found, with fruitless skill,
Its former strength was but plethoric ill.
[Illustration]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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