The splendor of the pageant which brought a bride from Murano to the
highest patrician circle of the Republic--to that house which held its
patent of nobility from those days of the seventh century when an
ancestor had ruled as tribune over one of the twelve Venetian isles--was
long remembered, almost as a royal wedding fete, and for days before and
after it was the talk of Venice.
They were coming over the water to the sound of the people's native
songs and the echo of their laughter, the young men and maidens of
Murano, in barks that were wreathed with garlands and brilliant with the
play of color that the Venetians love.
"Maridite, maridite, donzela,
Che dona maridada e sempre bela;
Maridite finche la fogia e verde,
Perche la zoventu presto se perde."[4]
[4] Marry, maiden, marry,
For she that is wedded is ever fair;
Marry then, in thy tender bloom,
Since youth passeth swiftly.
By the port of the Lido many a royal pageant had entered into Venice,
but never before had such a procession started from the shores of
Murano; it made one feel fete-like only to see the _bissoni_, those
great boats with twelve oars, each from a stabilimento of Murano,
wreathed for the fete, each merchant master at its head, robed in his
long, black, fur-trimmed gown and wearing his heavy golden chain, the
workmen tossing blossoms back over the water to greet the bride, the
rowers chanting in cadence to their motion:
"Belina sei, e'l ciel te benedissa,
Che in dove che ti passi l'erba nasse!"[5]
[5] Beautiful thou art, and may Heaven bless thee,
So that in thy footprints the grass shall spring.
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