OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 
39 
 
Farewell, my liege, my lords, I leave at last the world ! 
You who were all my thoughts, my hopes, my joys, my 
cares, 
A weight to gravitate, to counterpoise my prayers, 
Need them no more.  Then praise with me this period ; 
I leave you trembling as my soul draws near to God 
 
 
[She goes out on the arm of THE ABBESS. 
MORTADELLO.  My lords, I will have you all to know :  I judged 
her ill. 
So man distrusts the saintly snow on winter’s hill, 
Fearing what suns of spring may send, destruction tear 
Through larch and pine to village, rend its roofs in air. 
This is God’s virgin, lords :  I bid your hearts with mine 
Rise in thanksgiving.  Love was hid in that cold shrine. 
And now I bid you welcome well the fairest bride 
That ever graced our citadel.  Great Father, guide 
Our wedded steps through joys too great to estimate, 
Our wedded deeds to decorate our storied State. 
Advance the chair.  Lord Bishop, now we await your 
pleasure. 
O sanction thou the rainbow vow to arch my treasure ! 
 
 
 
[The service of marriage is begun. 
 
THE ALLOCUTION EPISCOPAL. 
 
All high and mighty princes are servants of the Lord, 
His holiness the sceptre, His majesty the sword. 
To you, my children, falls a task of wondrous weight : 
To life’s own fardel add the burden of the State. 
I have known you from your youth ;  you are worthy both 
to bear.