Foscarini monologue (Act 3) — Poems, translated and original

Once more in Venice! How my native air Takes from these limbs their weariness! What were The breezes of the rugged Alps, to this, So bland--so wooing? All, in loveliness The same--the same! The Lagune, brightly clear, Yet mirrors in its depths the marble domes That rise above it--lordly towers--where shine A thousand torches, like so many stars Gleaming through clouds of silver. From afar, The surge-like tone of multitudes, the hum Of glad, familiar voices, and the wild Faint music of the happy gondolier, Float up in blended murmurs. 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!