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Aut Deus, aut vacui certè mens tertia coeli, Per tua secretò guttura serpit agens; Serpit agens, facilisque docet mortalia corda Sensim immortali assuescere posse sono. I think the Lover would have been staggered, if he had gone about to express the same thought in English. I am sure, Sydney has no nights like this.
Nullus istud plene intueri potuit, nisi qui erat in throno vel circa: et me oportet hoc loco fateri stultitiam propriam, quod hac delectatione tractus, magnam adhibui apud Artistam diligentiam, verbis blandis, et quibuscunque munusculis, ac melioribus promissis, quod de tali mihi traderet artem, qui sagax simul et fallax imprimis, spem meam trahebat sponsionum funibus: sed at vltimum penitus abscindebat, dicens se vouisse Deo immortali, ne cuiquam doceret nisi proprio filio seniori, ac per hoc me Deus ab illo malo conseruauit inuitum, et gratias nunc reddentem.
Galen, the cunning old physician, recommended to his nervous patients what would now be termed a “rest cure” in these favoured regions; whilst the grateful Bernardo Tasso, father of the immortal Torquato, speaks of the capital of this district as “l’Albergo della Cortesia,” and in an ecstasy of delighted appreciation, goes on to add: “l’aere e si sereno, si temperato, si salutifero, si vitale, che gli uomini che senza provar altero cielo ci vivono sono quasi immortali.” And though praise from Torquato’s courtly sire must not be taken too seriously, yet few will deny that the beautiful plain deserves many of the eulogies that have been showered upon it.
"Cortesi! saw one ever such courtesy!" "San Marco keep you Immortali, for the grace of you!" "Sempiterni! everlasting ay, to be young like that, with so much pleasure in life Cielo!" "And the gondolieri of the Sempiterni do they live also forever? Signori Nobili, have you need of gondolieri?"
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