Then resting from his labour,
He sought his place of pride,
For the ataghan and sabre
Were shivered at his side.
III.
Fair Venice, like a beauty,
Arose from out the sea;
The waves, with a sweet duty,
Were proud her slaves to be:
The fleets she sent to rove them
Their empire seemed to know,
With a favouring sky above them,
A subject sea below:
Now sent on warlike sallies,
Now on some richer quest,
The bold Republic's gallies
Were known from east to west.
IV.
Dalmatia's forest highlands
Were searched for slaves and ore;
The soft Ionian Islands
Gave up their summer store;
The olive, fig, and myrtle,
All woods, the sweet and rare;
Silks for the maiden's kirtle,
Pearls for her shining hair;
And myrrh in silver measures,
And spices, oil, and grain,
These heaped the merchant treasures
She brought from off the main.
