Didst say Genoa? Ah, well, perchance 'tis true.
I never dreamed that any Genoese
Had such stern eyes, like steadfast haughty seas,
Assured of sovranty. Canst say she knew
Nought of that glowing city where surely grew
This tolerant calm, this strong inviolate ease,
This proud epitome of Veronese
And sister of Titian's girl whom Palma drew?
Although her bodice fails her noble breasts
She grudged no silks to swell her ducal gown.
Her maritime and many-nationed mart
Had store of pearls to string the coil that rests
Pale in her hair, or darkly trickles down
Her bosom whose limpid veil droops wide apart.