From Venice, while the moonlight falls
Brightest o'er her porphyry halls,
Gilding with unearthly ray,
Dome and column, worn and grey,
Till, as in a fairy dream,
Prouder, statelier, they seem
In the hour of their decay,
Than when from the Adrian shore,
First the breeze their banner bore,
Bless'd by mothers, many a one,
'Gainst the fiery Ottoman:
We are coming, never fear
Knew the joyous Gondolier.
Ne'er, where dance and song united,
Ne'er, where beauty's lamp was lighted,
Was he absent, hail our bark!
Ne'er the Lion of St. Mark
Flew on the Illyrian blast,
To his triumphs half so fast
As we've come o'er land and sea
To join in your festivity.