“In the year 1657, James Howel published his volume entitled ‘_Londinopolis; an Historicall Discourse, or Perlustration of the City of London_,’ to which he attached some Latin verses in praise of London Bridge, on the leaf immediately following the title-page. They are entitled in Latin, ‘_Concerning London Bridge, and the stupendous site and structure thereof, in imitation of those celebrated six verses of the Poet Sannazarius, on the City of Venice, commencing ‘Viderat Hadriacis._’ This beautiful hexastichon is to be found in that old and fair edition of his Latin Poems printed at the Aldine Press, Venice, 1535, 8vo., in the first book of Epigrams, page 38 b, and it is entitled ‘_On the Wonders of the City of Venice_.’ Now, that you may have some slight idea of the original of Howel’s rhymes, before I recite them, perhaps you will permit me to repeat to you an English paraphrase of Sannazario’s _own_ verses, fairly composed in the Sonnet stanza, but not possessing the elegant conciseness of the Latin?”
“Pray, go on, Sir,” answered I, with a good deal of satirical ceremony in my voice; “Pray go on, Mr. Barnaby; it’s long since I have had any choice as to what you shall put in, or what you shall leave out, of your discourse; and, therefore, let’s have the Sonnet, such as it is: you know the proverb,--in for a penny, in for a pound.”
“A facetious gentleman, truly,” was the Antiquary’s reply; “but let me observe for your consolation, Master Geoffrey, that we are now rapidly passing through the history of the Bridge, and that on later events I shall frequently have but little information to impart. However, to return to the matter in hand,--this is the Sonnet.
“As Neptune saw, reclined upon his waves, In the fair Adriatic Venice stand A City, o’er its waters to command, And placed in rule o’er all its billowy caves! He cried, in wonder at the pile it laves,-- Thy Tarpeian arches Jove himself hath plann’d, And thy vast walls were wrought by Mars’s hand. Hail, City! which the main in triumph braves! Though some esteem the Tiber’s royal pile The glory of the deep Pelagian sea; Venice, look round on mainland and on isle, There is not one so mighty and so free! ‘They are of men,’ thou say’st with lofty smile, But God alone hath rear’d and planted thee!