"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 winged lions' marble piles, Where Venice sat in state, throned on her hundred isles." BYRON. The sun had disappeared behind the summits of the Tyrolean Alps, and the moon was already risen above the low barrier of the Lido. Hundreds of pedestrians were pouring out of the narrow streets of Venice into the square of St. Mark, like water gushing through some strait aqueduct, into a broad and b…
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