The In-Gathering Cimon and Pero: A Chain of Sonnets: Sebastopol etc. By John A. Heraud |
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 | The In-Gathering |  |
IV.
All Venice is afloat, this day;
The pirates make for Istriä.
Afar off seen by the Lovers incensed:
'Twixt these and those the race commenced.
But not alone 'twixt these and those:
One lives 'tween friends as well as foes.
The pirates make for Istriä.
Afar off seen by the Lovers incensed:
'Twixt these and those the race commenced.
But not alone 'twixt these and those:
One lives 'tween friends as well as foes.
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The Dandoli, the Foscoli,
The Conte and Cornari, vie
With the Capelli family,
And Andrea, its head and eye,
That onward, onward, in the van,
Lead thy free trade and artisan,
O, queenly Venice! in that chase—
Outstripping the patriciän.
Honour to him who wins the race;
Or noble, or craftsman, a crown to the lover,
Who first from the Turk his bride shall recover.
The Conte and Cornari, vie
With the Capelli family,
And Andrea, its head and eye,
That onward, onward, in the van,
Lead thy free trade and artisan,
O, queenly Venice! in that chase—
Outstripping the patriciän.
Honour to him who wins the race;
Or noble, or craftsman, a crown to the lover,
Who first from the Turk his bride shall recover.
The chase, I said, young Andrea led—
Maria Formosa! On thy fair isle,
The Boy and his Bride were born and bred;
There first they welcomed the daylight's smile,
And worshipt the morn and evening-red.
Maria Formosa! the Beautiful
Their souls with these still visited—
O, never dismayed; O, never dull;
Still from the Hours they learned to cull
The flower and fruit—the spirit of joy!
O, happy the youth of the Maid and the Boy.
Maria Formosa! On thy fair isle,
The Boy and his Bride were born and bred;
There first they welcomed the daylight's smile,
And worshipt the morn and evening-red.
Maria Formosa! the Beautiful
Their souls with these still visited—
O, never dismayed; O, never dull;
Still from the Hours they learned to cull
The flower and fruit—the spirit of joy!
O, happy the youth of the Maid and the Boy.
The chase, I said, young Andrea led—
A breeze springs up to favour the chase;
It favours meanwhile the pirate barks—
“The corsairs yet may win the race.
O, crowd the sail—O, ply the oar—
Each sinew be stiffened in death, before
Ye yield the prize to those lawless sharks!
O, craftsmen! one prayer to your patron saint;
Then, to work with vigour that never shall faint,
Till Venice again sit enthroned at her ease,
The empressof the isles and seas.”
A breeze springs up to favour the chase;
It favours meanwhile the pirate barks—
“The corsairs yet may win the race.
O, crowd the sail—O, ply the oar—
Each sinew be stiffened in death, before
Ye yield the prize to those lawless sharks!
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Then, to work with vigour that never shall faint,
Till Venice again sit enthroned at her ease,
The empressof the isles and seas.”
The chase, I said, young Andrea led—
And still his vessel keeps ahead—
And after him the trade-boats sail,
Crowding their canvass to the gale;
But the Patrician barks behind
Woo still in vain the freshening wind,
No thought wastes on them the Artisan:
The thoughts of his bride engross each man;
Of her alone, in this perilous hour,
Crouching in shame to the infidel power,
Her hands clasped in prayer o'er the cross that must now
To the crescent insulting a suppliant bow,
The cross that no longer the captive can save,
In the bark of the ravisher borne over the wave.
“On, craftsmen, on! The foe is before us,
Love burns within us, heaven bends o'er us!”
And still his vessel keeps ahead—
And after him the trade-boats sail,
Crowding their canvass to the gale;
But the Patrician barks behind
Woo still in vain the freshening wind,
No thought wastes on them the Artisan:
The thoughts of his bride engross each man;
Of her alone, in this perilous hour,
Crouching in shame to the infidel power,
Her hands clasped in prayer o'er the cross that must now
To the crescent insulting a suppliant bow,
The cross that no longer the captive can save,
In the bark of the ravisher borne over the wave.
“On, craftsmen, on! The foe is before us,
Love burns within us, heaven bends o'er us!”
The chase, I said, young Andrea led—
And lo, at length before his way,
On speeds the galley of Ali Bey.
“Turn thy prow, thou corsair rude!
See by whom thou art pursued—
Now follow me, each artisan!
The lover should be more than man!”
The pirate-bark presents its prow,
On rush the boats to board it now;
Fierce the strife, but, quick and brief,
Surprised the corsairs and their chief.
And lo, at length before his way,
On speeds the galley of Ali Bey.
“Turn thy prow, thou corsair rude!
See by whom thou art pursued—
Now follow me, each artisan!
The lover should be more than man!”
The pirate-bark presents its prow,
On rush the boats to board it now;
Fierce the strife, but, quick and brief,
Surprised the corsairs and their chief.
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First Andrea trod the startled deck,
And dauntlessly, amidst his crew,
Smote Ali Bey, and instant slew.
He set his foot upon his neck,
And from his shoulders clove his head;
Then, with the avenger's visage dread,
Hailed her who to his side had sprung—
'Twas Pia to his bosom clung!
One arm embraced the Maiden fair,
One held the Pirate's head in air.
—All, at that sight are filled with zeal;
And, fired by that example, feel
The victor's courage:—daring, they
Pursue, and seize, and board, and slay.
—Of all the crew of Ali Bey,
Not one survived that dreadful day.
And dauntlessly, amidst his crew,
Smote Ali Bey, and instant slew.
He set his foot upon his neck,
And from his shoulders clove his head;
Then, with the avenger's visage dread,
Hailed her who to his side had sprung—
'Twas Pia to his bosom clung!
One arm embraced the Maiden fair,
One held the Pirate's head in air.
—All, at that sight are filled with zeal;
And, fired by that example, feel
The victor's courage:—daring, they
Pursue, and seize, and board, and slay.
—Of all the crew of Ali Bey,
Not one survived that dreadful day.
Thy honour, Venice! thus made good,
Each Bridegroom clasped his rescued Bride;
But many a noble, shame subdued,
Or feeling betwixt shame and pride—
Contrasting each artisan pinnace there,
With his own, more rich in glitter and gear.
Trophies of prowess, the conflict done,
Numbered the trade-boats two to one;
—Pirate-heads, that ghastily
Looked from their decks to sea and sky,
And wept in blood that victory.
Each Bridegroom clasped his rescued Bride;
But many a noble, shame subdued,
Or feeling betwixt shame and pride—
Contrasting each artisan pinnace there,
With his own, more rich in glitter and gear.
Trophies of prowess, the conflict done,
Numbered the trade-boats two to one;
—Pirate-heads, that ghastily
Looked from their decks to sea and sky,
And wept in blood that victory.
| The In-Gathering | |