I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand.
And I would hear yet once before I perish The voice which was my music... Speak to me!
Nothing can confound a wise man more than laughter from a dunce.
A pretty woman is a welcome guest.
To what gulfs A single deviation from the track Of human duties leads even those who claim The homage of mankind as their born due, And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!
Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.