VENICE.

"Queen of cities!

Goddess of ocean! with the beauty crowned
Of Aphrodite from her parent deep!

If thine Ausonian heaven denies the strength
That nerves a mountain race of sterner mould,
It gives thee charms whose very softness wins
All hearts to worship."

EARLY on the day succeeding my arrival in Venice, I was lolling upon the cushioned seats, and beneath the little dark awning of a gondola, and was thus carried along through numberless canals; the stroke of the oar, and occasional salutation of the gondolier alone breaking upon the impressive quietness. Passing by the old and seemingly deserted habitations which line the less public ways, I silently but thoughtfully contemplated the surrounding scene. One moment gliding beneath one of the many short but massive bridges, another sailing noiselessly under a window whence some listless observer was gazing, now coming almost in contact with a passing

gondola, and again occupying the solitary waters of a minor course. The steps and lower portions of the buildings, green with humid vegetation, the mouldering walls, the sad repose of neglect, and the palpable evidences of time's corroding finger, were circumstances too unique not to be observed, and too interesting to be unimpressive.

I was introduced by the custode of the Tribunal of Justice, upon the Bridge of Sighs-the lofty and covered archway connecting the prison and palace. I found it an exceedingly massive structure, consisting of two passages, the two entrances communicating with the general prison, and one of the two leading into the palace being closed up. By examining the locality, I soon perceived the error which has been justly ascribed to Byron, that of supposing that a passage from the palace to the prison was a fatal path. On the contrary, he who was so happy as to escape the condemnation of "the Ten," was acquitted, or remanded to his former cell, instead of being consigned by the private stair-case to the secret dungeons beneath. Hence to him, in either case, the path was joyful rather than sad. Well, however, may such a heavy and short way between the tribunal and the jail be called the Ponte di Sospiri; for it must full often have re-echoed the heavy sighs of innumerable sufferers. Descending by the golden stairs, so called, I was guided to the awful prisons beneath, and examined the rude inscriptions and bloody stains still existent

in the gloomy vaults, so long the secret scenes of suffering and destruction.*

Landing near the church of St. Georgio Maggiore, I admired, for some time, its architectural neatness and simple grandeur. Next proceeding to the Chiesa di Carmelitani, I was much interested in examining the numerous precious marbles which line its interior. Much time was consumed in viewing some of the most important churches, and in perusing the peculiar architecture of many of the crumbling and blackened palaces bordering the main canal. I remarked that the former edifices were much lighter, and the marbles more vivid than is the case with most of the churches, out of Lombardy, which I had previously seen. In one of these I was interestingly occupied in viewing the monument to Canova; one of the sculptured figures which adorn it carries an urn containing the heart of the great artist. The Academy of the Fine Arts engaged much of my attention. In what has been called Titian's master-piece-the Assumption, there seemed to me exceeding richness without corresponding effect; but in the Marriage of Cana, by Pardaronino, I deemed the countenance of the bride one of the most beautiful faces I had seen

* As we crossed the square of St. Marks, we remarked that the pigeons did not fly hastily at our approach, and remembered with interest, that they were privileged natives of the place, having been, during and since the republic, under the special protection of government.

upon canvass, with the exception of several of Raphael's Madonnas.

The more I saw of this peculiar school of painting called Venetian, the more was I captivated with its unrivalled richness and depth of coloring, and the more regretful of its frequent lack of powerful expression. This latter quality seems pre-eminently requisite for the production of anything like permanent impression upon the mind of the spectator. When I recall some of Raphael's works, the sentiment embodied in the picture is before me, and strongly identified with his unequalled images; but even after a comparatively short interval, many of the larger pictures of the Venetian school were merged, in my imagination, in the splendor of their own gorgeous hues.

I next disembarked at the Rialto, interesting from its Shakspearian associations. Alas! no rich Venetian merchants are now to be seen upon its still bustling walk, though every traveller will find something of the Shylock spirit lingering yet. A subsequent object was the Arsenal, where the antique statues before the entrance, the various instruments of war and torture, and the models of the old barques, proved quite curious, and worthy of attention. Several fettered workmen, prisoners, passed to and fro in the extensive yards, and the appearance of active business was striking for this part of the world.