I do not know whether it will give the place
further interest to say, that it was among the tombs of the Hebrews
Cooper's ingenious Bravo had the incredible good luck to hide himself from
the _sbirri_ of the Republic; or to relate that it was the habit of
Lord Byron to gallop up and down the Lido in search of that conspicuous
solitude of which the sincere bard was fond.
One day of the first summer I spent in Venice (three years of Venetian
life afterward removed it back into times of the remotest antiquity), a
friend and I had the now-incredible enterprise to walk from one end of the
Lido to the other,--from the port of San Nicolo (through which the
Bucintoro passed when the Doges went to espouse the Adriatic) to the port
of Malamocco, at the southern extremity.
We began with that delicious bath which you may have in the Adriatic,
where the light surf breaks with a pensive cadence on the soft sand, all
strewn with brilliant shells. The Adriatic is the bluest water I have ever
seen; and it is an ineffable, lazy delight to lie and watch the fishing
sails of purple and yellow dotting its surface, and the greater ships
dipping down its utmost rim.
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