 | Poems |  |
105
VENICE.
As one who comes from years of weary roving
To look on her who was his early love,
And findeth for the end of all his loving
Only a green grave and a stone above—
Only her silent grave; so shall it prove
With him whose heart full of her history,
Leadeth his feet to Venice. Grief shall move
His eyes to tears as true as tears may be
At sight of her who reigned, the sweetheart of the sea.
To look on her who was his early love,
And findeth for the end of all his loving
Only a green grave and a stone above—
Only her silent grave; so shall it prove
With him whose heart full of her history,
Leadeth his feet to Venice. Grief shall move
His eyes to tears as true as tears may be
At sight of her who reigned, the sweetheart of the sea.
Yet she is fair—oh! very,—very fair,
The ancient beauty is not buried yet,
But like gold gloss on a dead lady's hair
That lingers when the eyes are still and set,
And the lips locked, winning us to forget
By little and by little all her grace
Till we may bear to lose it:—so is met
Life and cold death on the dead city's face,
Not the sweet life itself, but the life's latest trace.
The ancient beauty is not buried yet,
But like gold gloss on a dead lady's hair
That lingers when the eyes are still and set,
And the lips locked, winning us to forget
By little and by little all her grace
106
Life and cold death on the dead city's face,
Not the sweet life itself, but the life's latest trace.
Still standeth as it stood in days gone by
The glorious basilic with gleaming dome,
Though from its gate no psalm of Victory
Welcomes, as once it did, the standards home:
And where of old over the flashing foam
Golden Venetian galleys swept the sea,
Each stranger trading keel may go and come,
And idle laughter rings, and feet pass free
Where kings have doffed their crowns, and bowed the unbending knee.
The glorious basilic with gleaming dome,
Though from its gate no psalm of Victory
Welcomes, as once it did, the standards home:
And where of old over the flashing foam
Golden Venetian galleys swept the sea,
Each stranger trading keel may go and come,
And idle laughter rings, and feet pass free
Where kings have doffed their crowns, and bowed the unbending knee.
No more the gonfalon along the sky
Flaunts as it flaunted in a hundred fights;
Another flag of foreign blazonry,
Red with Venetian blood, of saddest sights
Streams saddest. If above the city's heights
The holy king of angels still doth stand,
No more he waits to bless her days and nights,
But leaneth off for heaven, in act to expand
His plumy wings for flight, far from the lifeless land.
Flaunts as it flaunted in a hundred fights;
Another flag of foreign blazonry,
Red with Venetian blood, of saddest sights
Streams saddest. If above the city's heights
The holy king of angels still doth stand,
No more he waits to bless her days and nights,
But leaneth off for heaven, in act to expand
His plumy wings for flight, far from the lifeless land.
107
Oh Venice! Venice! Venice! would that I,
I, even I, the weakest of the weak
Were of thy children; then the ancient cry
Though but so late, should rouse thee, One should speak
The words too long unspoken:—“Rise and wreak,
“For Mark's dead Lion, vengeance on the bird,
“The bloody vulture of the double beak
“That leadeth to the corpse his carrion herd,
“And shrieks, and flies afar if but a limb hath stirred!
I, even I, the weakest of the weak
Were of thy children; then the ancient cry
Though but so late, should rouse thee, One should speak
The words too long unspoken:—“Rise and wreak,
“For Mark's dead Lion, vengeance on the bird,
“The bloody vulture of the double beak
“That leadeth to the corpse his carrion herd,
“And shrieks, and flies afar if but a limb hath stirred!
“Rouse ye for Venice! raise the Gonfalon!
“Tear the bold blazon of your tyrants down!
“Up for the sea-queen, bear the banner on—
“Dandolo's banner to a ducal crown;
“Close, and charge once—once for the ancient town!”
Alas, I idly rave—my home is there,
Where those who suffer strike as well as frown;
Where men have never learned the yoke to bear,
Nor on a branded brow calm satisfaction wear.
“Tear the bold blazon of your tyrants down!
“Up for the sea-queen, bear the banner on—
“Dandolo's banner to a ducal crown;
“Close, and charge once—once for the ancient town!”
Alas, I idly rave—my home is there,
Where those who suffer strike as well as frown;
Where men have never learned the yoke to bear,
Nor on a branded brow calm satisfaction wear.
108
And ye have all forgotten that the hilt
Is for the hand, and now the day is gone
When for the wasted blood that ye have spilt
Gain had been yours, and what is done, is done:
Therefore, since other hope of help is none,
Pray a last prayer in this your bitter pain
At rising and at setting of the sun,
A Litany to win the Adrian main—
To rise in gentle wrath, and claim his own again.
Is for the hand, and now the day is gone
When for the wasted blood that ye have spilt
Gain had been yours, and what is done, is done:
Therefore, since other hope of help is none,
Pray a last prayer in this your bitter pain
At rising and at setting of the sun,
A Litany to win the Adrian main—
To rise in gentle wrath, and claim his own again.
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