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Chronicles and Characters

By Robert Lytton (Owen Meredith): In Two Volumes
  

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XII.A BLIND MAN SEES FAR.
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XII.A BLIND MAN SEES FAR.

And all this time, Doge Dandalo,—for, since
His sight was saved from surfaces and shows
That grossly intercept the sight of those
Who, seeing many things, see nothing thro',
He with serene, unvext, internal view
Beheld all naked causes and effects
In that clear glass whereon the soul reflects,
Unshaked by Time's distraught and shifting glare,
Events and acts,—while passionately there

325

The Prince stood pleading, saw, as in a trance,
Constructed out of golden circumstance,
The steadfast image of a far off thing
Glorious, and full of wonder . . . .
Clear upspring
Into the deep blue sky the golden spires
That top the milkwhite towers, like windless fires:
O'er garden'd slopes, slant shafts of plumy palm
Lean seaward from hot hillsides breathing balm:
Green, azure, and vermilion, fret with gold,
Blaze the domed roofs in many a globèd fold
Of splendour, set with silver studs and discs:
And, underneath, the solemn obelisks
And sombre cypress stripe with blackest shade
Sea-terraces, by Summer overlaid
With such a lavish sunlight as o'erflows
And drops between thick clusters of wild rose
And clambering spurweed, down the sleepy walls
To the broad base of granite pedestals
That prop the gated ramparts, round about
The wave-girt city; whence flow in and out
The wealth and wonder of the Orient World:
And, high o'er all this populous pomp, unfurl'd
In the sublime dominions of the sun,
And fann'd by floating Bosphorus breezes, won
To waft to Venice each triumphant bark,
The wing'd and warrior Lion of St. Mark!

326

All this he saw beforehand: so foreknew
What last great deed God kept for him to do:
Which, being apprehended, was half done
In his deep soul, though yet divined by none.
So when the Prince had ended, and the Hall
Began to buzz, and those flusht faces all
To turn their glances on the Doge (because
He was the inventor of their wills) no pause
For further thought he needed: but smoothed down
Across his knee one crease of his calm gown,
And answer'd, very quietly, “It is good,”
And rose.