To Zante
Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers,Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take!How many memories of what radiant hoursAt sight of thee and thine at once awake!How many scenes of what departed bliss!How many thoughts of what entombed hopes!How many visions of a maiden that isNo more--no more upon thy verdant slopes!
No more! alas, that magical sad soundTransforming all! Thy charms shall please no more--Thy memory no more! Accursed groundHenceforward I hold thy flower-enamelled shore,O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante!"Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"
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