Publisher's Synopsis
ILL-FATED and mysterious man!-bewildered in the brilliancy of thine own imagination, and fallen in the flames of thine own youth! Again in fancy I behold thee! Once more thy form hath risen before me!-not-oh not as thou art-in the cold valley and shadow-but as thou shouldst be-squandering away a life of magnificent meditation in that city of dim visions, thine own Venice-which is a star-beloved Elysium of the sea, and the wide windows of whose Palladian palaces look down with a deep and bitter meaning upon the secrets of her silent waters. Yes! I repeat it-as thou shouldst be. There are surely other worlds than this-other thoughts than the thoughts of the multitude-other speculations than the speculations of the sophist. Who then shall call thy conduct into question? who blame thee for thy visionary hours, or denounce those occupations as a wasting away of life, which were but the overflowings of thine everlasting energies?
