Chronicles and Characters :: :: University of Virginia Library

Meanwhile, at sea, the white Fleet, following,
Hover'd hard by; and crept with cautious wing
Under the wave-girt city; planting there
A formidable grove.

Not anywhere
Thro' seas and skies were ever sail'd or row'd
Ships huge as these. The Paradiso proud,
Like a broad mountain, monarch of the morn,
By the mad clutch of tumbling Titans torn
Down from the windy ruins of the sky,
With Jove's chained thunders throbbing silently

In his strong pines, adown the displaced deep
Shoulders the Pelegrino,—half asleep,
With wavy fins each side a scarlet breast
Slanted. Hard by, more huge than all the rest,
—Air's highest, water's deepest, denizen,
A citadel of ocean, throng'd with men
That tramp in silk and steel round battlements
Of windy wooden streets, mid terrced tents
And turrets, under shoals of sails unfurl'd,
—That vaunting monster, Venice calls “The World.”

And now is pass'd each purple promontory
Of Sestos and Abydos, famed in story,
And now all round the deep blue bay uprise
Into the deep blue air, o'er galleries
Of marble, marble galleries; and lids
O'er lids of shining streets; dusk pyramids
O'er pyramids; and temple walls o'er walls
Of glowing gardens, whence white sunlight falls
From sleepy palm to palm; and palace tops
O'ertopp'd by palaces. Nought ever stops
The struggling Glory, from the time he leaves
His myrtle-muffled base, and higher heaves
His mountain march from golden-grated bower
To bronzen-gated wall,—and on, from tower
To tower,—until at last deliciously
All melts in azure summer and sweet sky.

Then, after anthem sung, sonorous all
The bronzen trumpets to the trumpets call;
Sounding across the sea from bark to bark,
Where floats the wingèd Lion of St. Mark,
The mighty signal for assault.

A shout
Shakes heaven. And swift from underneath upspout
Thick showers of hissing arrows that down-rain
Their rattling drops upon the walls, and stain
The blood-streak'd bay. The floating forest groans,
And creaks, and reels, and cracks. The rampart-stones
Clatter and shriek beneath the driven darts.
And on the shores, and at the gates, upstarts,
One after one, each misshaped monster fell
Of creaking ram, and cumbrous mangonel,
Great stones, down-jumping, chop, and split, and crush
The rocking towers; wherefrom the spearmen rush.
The morning star of battle, marshalling all
That movement massive and majestical,
Gay through the tumult which it guides doth go
The grand grey head of gallant Dandalo.
With what a full heart following that fine head,
—Thine, noble Venice by thy noblest led!
In his blithe-dancing turret o'er the sea,
Glad as the grey sea-eagle, hovers he
Thro' sails in flocks and masts in avenues.

Elsewhere, the inland battle, broken, strews

With flying horse the hollows; while but ill
The heavy-harness'd Frankish Knighthood still
Strains, staggering as each Flanders stallion falls,
In the rear region, round the city walls,
Against those silken turms and squadrons light,
That follow and fly, scatter and reunite,
Tormenting their full-bulk'd too-cumbrous foe;
Like swarms of golden bees that come and go
About the bear whose paw is on their hive
Patient and pertinacious, tho' they drive
Their stings into his eyes, settle and swarm,
Disperse and close again, to do him harm,
Unharm'd. For there in splendour eminent
Is pitch'd the purple-topt Imperial tent,
And domes of crimson glow i' the azure sky,
Girt by Byzantium's gorgeous chivalry.

So to the kindling of the Even Star
The groaning-hearted battle greatens.