In recent years, I’ve often found myself returning to this poem by William Wordsworth, especially the last two lines.

“Once did she hold the gorgeous east in fee;

And was the safeguard of the west: the worth

Of Venice did not fall below her birth,

Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.

She was a maiden City, bright and free

No guild seduced, no force could violate

And, when she took unto herself a Mate

She must espouse the everlasting Sea.

And what if she saw these glories fade,

Those titles vanish and that strength decay;

Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid

When her long life hath reached its final day:

Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade

Of that which once was great, is passed away.”