Oh, leave the gay and festive scenes,
	The halls of dazzling light.

H. S. Vandyke.    

	Venice once was dear,
	The pleasant place of all festivity,
	The rival of the earth, the masque of Italy.

Byron.    

	We keep the day. With festal cheer,
	With books and music, surely we
	Will drink to him, whate’er he be,
	And sing the songs he loved to hear.

Tennyson.    

	There was a sound of revelry by night,
	And Belgium’s capital had gather’d then
	Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright
	The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men.

Byron.    

	The music, and the banquet, and the wine—
	The garlands, the rose odors, and the flowers,
	The sparkling eyes, and flashing ornaments—
	The white arms and the raven hair—the braids,
	And bracelets; swan-like bosoms, and the necklace,
	An India in itself, yet dazzling not.

Byron.