Art and Fashion | ||
RIVA DI SAN MARCO.
[It must be borne in mind that the legend which we are about to produce is recorded by more than one authentic chronicler, and that it was sufficiently believed to give birth to a public religious ceremony. In the year 1341, an inundation of many days' continuance had raised the water three cubits higher than it had ever before been seen in Venice; and during a stormy night, while the flood appeared to be still increasing, a poor old fisherman sought what refuge he could find by mooring his bark close to the Riva di San Marco. The storm was yet raging, when three persons approached, and offered him a good fare if he would convey them to the two castles of Sido. Scarcely had they gained the strait, when they saw a galley, rather flying than sailing up the Adriatic, manned (if we may so say) with devils, who seemed hurrying, with fierce and threatening gestures, to sink Venice in the deep. The strangers conjured the fiends to depart: at the word, the demoniacal galley vanished, and the three holy passengers were quietly landed. “Go to the Doge,” said one, “and the procuratori, and assure them that, but for we three, Venice would have been drowned. I am St. Mark; my two comrades are St. George and St. Nicholas.” On the morrow the fisherman did as he was told, and he not only received his fare, but an annual pension to boot. Moreover, a solemn procession and thanksgiving were appointed, in gratitude to the three holy corpses which had rescued from such calamity the land affording them burial. —Abridged from Sketches of Venetian History.]
And blessings on the fisherman who steer'd the gallant bark;
And wild and high the waves howl'd by, foaming and white with rage!
Like flaming brands by demons forged amidst that hellish rout;
The proudest halls of Venice rock'd unto their very base,
And mothers gazed in agony upon their children's face.
Calm as the eagle floats along its cloud-beleaguer'd track;
The whirlwind own'd the spirit-grasp of some superior sway,
And, shrieking, vanish'd like a fiend defeated of its prey!
And moved the helm with trembling hand, and marvell'd silently;
For rays of light upon his sight in angel-beauty gleam'd
From brows more eminently fair than poet's fancy dream'd!
As through the Adriatic strait the venturous vessel steer'd!
A galley throng'd with demons foul was scudding o'er the wave,
Which deeper grew, and faster flew, at every sign they gave!
Doom'd to the last and worst despair, mother, and sire, and child!
Devoted towers, and palaces, and temples, to that tide
Whose dreadful billows leap'd around in their tempestuous pride!
The demons stretch'd their wings of flame, and howling, turn'd and fled!
The horrors of that spectral sea at once were put to flight,
As the morning stole, like a parting soul, from the grave of the buried night!
The grateful mother clasps her child, and half forgets her woes:
The sea hath moan'd itself to sleep within the tranquil bay,
And sunny is the welcome sky, and beautiful its ray!
For shielded hath our city been by influence divine!
Thanksgiving to the Virgin pour beside this hallow'd bark;
And glory to St. Nicholas, St. George, and good St. Mark!
Art and Fashion | ||