University of Virginia Library

Now Aurora left her bed,
And from aged Tithon fled;
And Apollo shed his beams
On the deep and silent streams,
Coming forth with all his state
From the Oriental gate;
Now the Doge was at his prayers;
And her bright and golden hairs
Amphitrite combed free,
Underneath the crystal sea;
And the Mermaid chanted brave
On the blue and sparkling wave;
Now from Candia and from Rhodes,
Mighty governors' abodes,
And from Cyprus, too, in haste,
Where the lord Othello grac'd
The ill-omen'd war begun,
(But that was ere the deed was done,
Born of jealousy, and pride,
By which Desdemona died,)
Messengers, with winged feet,
In the Doge's hall did meet,
Bringing tidings of affairs,
To fill his wise and aged cares;
Now the lute and cittern breath'd
Morning vows, to heav'n bequeath'd,
From the chaste, uprising maid,
Vows, which must be duly paid,
When she in marriage-bed doth lie,
Without reproach to chastity;
And whate'er in thought was free,
Like the lark 'gan sweet to be;
But pale jealousy did weep;
And the miser fell asleep;
And the light-hating man, and fowl,
The astronomer, and owl,
To their learned beds were gone;
Now the night, the night is flown,
And the morning came apace,
Breathing sweet an amber grace,
To delight the race of men
With her crimson cheeks again:
But yet Heliodora lay
Turning from the golden day,
Naked, on her purple bed:
Tears, like amber, she did shed,
And her bosom heav'd with groans,
Fit to melt the marble stones,
That jut upon the Adrian sea:
“What is day, false day, to me?
“Hide, O nurse, th' accursed sight,
“False to me, and to delight;
“Close my head in sable night.
“Is not this the fatal day,
“Tell me, O Caneura, pray,
“When the Doge, my father, said,
“I should mount the marriage bed
“With the lord Orsino's heir?
“O day of madness and despair!
“Rather, bear me to my grave!
“Hast thou, O nurse, no means to save?
“Or must I to my tomb be gone?
“Is my father's heart like stone,
“That thus can see his daughter lie
“Distracted, and, unpitying, die?
“Let me to the Indies fly,
“To the out-posts of the world,
“Or upon the winds be hurl'd,
“Far beyond the peopled sphere,
“Ere Orsino find me here,
“Ready for his hateful arms;
“Hast thou, O nurse, no counter charms,
“From the mountains, or the fields,
“That the gentle Nature yields,
“In pity to a maiden's woe;
“O my lord, my father, oh!
“Weeping at your feet I lay,
“Yet you turn'd your heart away
“From your daughter in despair;
“O, pity me, thou golden air,
“For pity to my God I fly;
“O Frangipani, let me die,
“If I behold thee not again!”
Then, overcome with sudden pain,
The maiden fell upon her back,
All her reason gone to wrack,
Fainting from the light away:
Scarce the nurse the life could stay,
When she had restor'd it well;
Scarce her aged sense could tell
What should be remedy to love:
Much persuasion she did move,
The winged God to overcome,
And to bring sweet patience home:
“Men are men,” Caneura said,
And gently shook her aged head;
“And Orsino, to say truth,
“Is a fair and gentle youth,
“Who will speed your happiness;
“Do not you, then, make it less;
“Or against your father fight,
“For a dream of mere delight.
“Is not Frangipani gone?
“Why then will my child make moan
“For a good she cannot have?
“Say, the youth is fierce and brave,
“Full of virtue and delight,
“Yet he is not in your sight,
“Nor he cannot be again:
“What then can be more idle pain,
“Than to tear your heart for one,
“Who cannot to your arms be won?
“Would you with Frangipani go,
“An exile, o'er the mountain's snow?
“Or with Frangipani sleep,
“In the caves of forests deep,
“Underneath dishonour'd boughs?
“Would you be the windy spouse
“Of a corsair, on the deck
“Baring that immortal neck?
“O my Heliodora, bred
“In the golden marriage-bed,
“Fed from out a princely cup,
“Where 'tis only kings may sup,
“Would you”—but who counts the lights,
Sparkling in the summer nights;
Who the leaves can number all,
That in waning Autumn fall;
Who can tell what sands there be,
By the coral-paved sea;
Who can do these things, may tell
That, which is impossible,
The words that from Caneura fell.

All her words were vain; as vain
As it were with gentle strain
Of persuasive speech to move
A marble Dian into love:
And, like the marble, Heliodore,
An image for all men t' adore,
Lay upon her purple bed,
Hiding her thrice-golden head:
Only, now and then, a groan
Made her mighty passion known;
And the tears were flowing free,
As from unhappy Niobe.
Then she lift up her marble arms,
Unfolding a whole world of charms;
And, “O great God, and what beside
“May hear, and pity me,” she cried,
“If I forsake this hapless youth,
“And fall from my pure rock of truth;
“If I forsake him in his woe,
“And from Frangipani go
“To another marriage-bed”—
No more the hapless virgin said;
But fell again upon the bed,
And her bright and golden head
In the dews of night was steep'd;
Long time, then, the maiden sleep'd;
And the nurse, with trembling fear,
Could scarce bring back her daughter dear:
Then, as she held her weeping head,
“And is it thus,” Caneura said,
“My daughter for her love must die?
“Lift up thy thoughts, my child, and I
“To ease thy loaded heart will try:
“What if the Doge be grown so old,
“That he thy passion can behold
“Unmov'd, Caneura will not see
“Thee perish for fidelity:
“'Spite of them all, and all their power,
“Thou shalt be free this very hour;
“I've an old head, and that can tell—
“There's nothing so impossible,
“But that this eve, ere Hesper glow,
“To Frangipani thou shalt go.
“There's never a prince in Italy,
“With my Heliodore shall lie,
“But I'll know the reason why:
“Unless, and I myself deceive,
“Frangipani give them leave.
“Frangipani, I say again,
“What is there in that lovely strain
“So hateful to the Doge's ears?
“The Doge is mad, as it appears;—
“Is he not young, is he not brave,
“On the land, or on the wave?
“Is he not soft and gentle too?
“And very beautiful to view?
“What would the Doge fain have, I pray,
“That to this boy he answers, nay?
“And he must banish him, forsooth,
“Despite of all his spotless truth;
“O, he must banish him, and then
“He brings us here this king of men,
“This great Orsino here to wed,
“And t'enjoy thy golden bed;
“Marry, forbid! the Doge is mad,
“I say't again, the Doge is mad,
“Caneura says it,”—here she stopp'd,
And for a while the subject dropp'd,
Lacking her breath; and then she smil'd,
To see how much her words beguil'd
The virgin, who raised up her head,
As when a marigold doth spread
Her flourishing leaves to the Sun's eye,
That lately in cold death did lie.
The rose came to her cheek again,
And her heart forgot its pain:
And, as the ivy clasps the oak,
The nurse into her arms she took,
And gave her an immortal kiss;
Fit, O Jove, t' have fill'd with bliss
Thy eternal chair on high:
And then upon her neck did lie,
Full of joy, and tranquilly.
Then the nurse resum'd her theme;
“It were folly in th' extreme,
“Longer here, my love, to stay,
“Than the lamp shall shed it's ray,
“In the purple skirts of day;
“Then, ere yet the moon's soft beam
“Gild the Adriatick stream,
“When now the Doge's board is set,
“(We have time t' escape them yet,)
“We with Phœbus taking leave,
“Underneath the purple eve,
“To the port will make repair:
“I have a good brother there,
“Captain of the ship, Saint Mark;
“Who will take us in the dark,
“And safely once on board with him,
“We may chant our vesper hymn,
“Laughing at the peril past:
“And, the while we stand by the mast,
“Farewell, good Orsino, Sir!—
“If the Doge shall make a stir,
“That to us breeds little care,
“When upon the gulf we are,
“And the wind is fresh, and fair:
“And my brother sails to-night,
“Having his permittance right.
“Then, my love, my Heliodore,
“All your grief shall soon be o'er,
“Flying to a foreign shore.
“Only there is one thing yet,
“These legs, so soft and delicate,
“Must forget their wonted state:
“And this bosom for the world,
“When our foresail is unfurl'd,
“Flying in the idle wind,
“Then a sailor's coat must bind:
“I must buy you sailor's clothes;
“But be sure you learn your oaths,
“Not such pretty oaths, as maids
“Find expedient in their trades,
“By Gis, and by Saint Charity—
“No, you braver words must try:
“It will not hurt your chastity,
“Since for winged love you fly.
“Now, my love, awhile farewell!
“I at eve a tale will tell,
“That, I think, shall please you well.”

Then from out the door she pass'd,
But first Heliodore embrac'd,
And to the Doge then went in haste.

Him she pray'd, with simple air,
Her lady's presence to forbear;
“For she was full of shame,” she said,
“Till the lamp of eve might shed
“Her amber light, and Hymen's vows
“Should then be wakeful through the house:
“His highness knew the gentle maid,
“How soft, and how of love afraid,
“And, if it pleas'd him, she would stay
“In her chamber during day,
“Till Hesper should light up his ray.”
Then, having won the duke's consent,
To the port Caneura went:
Her brother, and aboard she found,
Pulling anchor from the ground,
And his sails already bent:
Straight on board Caneura went,
And brought his courage to comply,
To save Heliodore, or die:
“If this wind shall hold us fair,
“We shall cause the Doge some care;
“For long ere morning's light we see,
“Off Apulia we shall be,
“If it but blow a steady gale—
“Believe it, I'll not take-in sail:
“Be sure you come, so soon as day
“Sinks upon the crimson bay,
“And underneath that squared gate,
“My boatmen and my boat shall wait,
“And I, to watch the turns of fate.
“Then bring your beauteous sailor; I
“Am not afraid for her to die,
“But stand prepar'd to fall or fly.”
Then, furnish'd with her boyish weeds,
Caneura to the shore proceeds,
And murmur'd oft upon her way,
“This, sure, is an important day,
“As Venice to her cost shall know,
“Long ere to-morrow's sun shall glow.”

And now the princess, pale with fear,
Seeing, that the hour was near,
Equipp'd herself in boyish weeds,
And to the wat'ry marge proceeds:
The nurse still saying to her friends,
That she her sister's son attends
Down to the port, to Greece to sail:
And now they see the flapping sail,
And now into the boat are gone,—
Orsino, for thy wife make moan!

Like a dart, from Apollo sent,
Down the Adrian gulf they went;
Like a swallow on the wing,
Flying to o'ertake the spring:
Scarce the moon three times had shone
The silver Adrian waves upon,
Scarce three times on the middle sea,
Shining in her glory free,
Ere the sev'nth morn, at break of day,
They enter'd the Athenian bay:
The ruddy sun began t' appear,
And strait they heard the trumpet clear,
And straight they saw from an armed port
The duke of Athens, and his court,
In gold and filed steel appear,
With blemish to the flow'ry year.
The duke on a white charger borne,
More white, than are the steeds of Morn,
More white, than are the kine that feed
On Clitumnus' sacred mead,
A purple vestment o'er him thrown,
That with all Sidon's beauty shone,
And on his helmet, perching clear,
Like Love, a golden grasshopper,
That seem'd to chirup to the year:
His bridle and bit, embossed brave,
With stones, that a bright lustre gave,
Like light from the Oriental wave;
And in his port, and valour, he
Seem'd like duke Theseus to be,
That won, and then espoused free
The warlike nymph, Hyppolité.
Then did a strain of musick swell,
As when the Tritons sound their shell,
And the approach of Neptune tell:
Or when Proteus breathes his horn,
To call his sea-calves through the morn:
Or when the balmy Venus laughs,
And Jove the cup of Hebe quaffs.
So did the musick breathe; the while
In the ruddy morning's smile,
A pearled banner, painted rare,
Floated in the purple air:
Thereon did Meleager slay
The boar, that made his savage prey
On the Caledonian way:
Great was the skilful painter's art;
The spear went piercing through the heart,
And the boar foam'd out his breath,
Grinning in the sylvan death.
So o'er the duke's brave head did fly
His ancestor's fair victory.
And by his side a knight there rode,
Much in semblance like a God,
That from his perfect panoply
Flames of living light did fly:
Tall and straight, like a pillar fair,
That the wise and pious care
Of Solomon did make, t' uphold
His temple, all carv'd out with gold:
And upon the knight's brave crest
Was a famous charge exprest,
That is, on an uprising knoll,
The God-created Capitol:
Rome, the heart of Rome, he bore:
Then, through the trumpet's silver roar,
It struck the heart of Heliodore:
“O Jove,” she cried, “Apollo 's there,
“Or great Frangipani's heir:
“See, Caneura, see,” she cried,
“The knight, that rides the duke beside,
“Arm'd with Mars' o'er-haughty pride:
“Know you his crest? know you the man?”
Then the aged nurse began;
“O Jove,” she cried, “what grace is here!”
Then in Heliodora's ear
She pour'd a thousand proverbs forth,
Which he may tell, who thinks them worth.
But what the cars, and what the steeds,
Prancing on the flow'ry meads,
Whose hoofs, in fiery thunder hurl'd,
Shook the centre of the world;
What the foot-men, arm'd with spears,
Had I great Nestor's aged years,
And lungs of brass, I could not tell:

Leaving now the Ocean's swell,
Caneura, and fair Heliodore
Stood on the Munychian shore:
The Duke of Athens they were told,
Did war with the fierce Pagans hold;
And now was to the mountains gone,
To make with them his prowess known.
A sigh then Heliodora drew,
And, changing to an ashy hue,
And straight again to crimson red,
Thus to her nurse, Caneura, said;
“Ah me, O nurse, and can I lie
“Thus idle, when the war is nigh?
“What if Frangipani die?
“Love may arm my hand with force:
“Give me a spear, then, and a horse,
“A mailed breast-plate, and I'll go,
“To fight with the unfaithful foe.
“Love shall reign throughout the fight:
“Battle is a sweet delight,
“When the man we love is near:
“Not ev'n a woman's heart shall fear.
“I would not from this combat be,
“For all the gold the Sun can see.”
Then her eyes with fury shone;
But with a fury only known,
Where Love has shook his crimson fire:
'Twas valour, mingled with desire!
Her soul would from her armour fly:
Freely would she bleed, and die:
But more freely yield her breath
In chaste Hymen's softer death.
So the dove will fondly go
To meet the falcon, her fierce foe;
So the fond deer, in nature's truth,
Will brave the boar's o'er-gnashing tooth.
“Did not, O nurse, Hyppolyté
“Shine in mailed armour free,
“At Ilium for the cause of love?
“And shall that gentle rapture move
“A mind unspoused? and my soul,
“Wherein all Venus hath controul,
“Be tranquil, while her gentle mate
“Must brave the fierce assaults of fate?”
And then into her cheeks there came
A soft, an Amazonian flame:
And on the ground her looks she bent,
Her soul upon the war intent.

In vain whate'er Caneura said:
Heliodore lift up her head,
And saw beneath an open shed,
An armourer, whose anvil play'd
A merry ditty to his trade.
“Pray, Sir,” said Heliodore, “can you
“Permit me a good suit to view,
“That Hercules could scarce shoot through?
“Armour of proof, that may avail,
“And blunt the Turkish iron hail?
“For, cap-a-pée, perhaps I mean
“To mingle with the warlike scene:
And then she gave a smile, whose dart
Went straight into the armourer's heart.
“Fair lady,” said the armourer then,
“These suits are for our warlike men:
“Nor arms, nor armour, can them shield,
“If once 'gainst you they take the field:
“Mars himself to you must yield:
“So sings Anacreon.” Then his work
Went on, despite th' invading Turk:
For he, before to-morrow's sun,
Must have a crested helmet done,
To save a head, that had no brains,
But had a mind for these campaigns.
“Achilles was a valiant man;”—
“Pray, Sir,” said Heliodore—“Anan?”
Replied the armourer: “Sir,” said she,
“A gentle youth commission'd me
“To purchase at what price you will,
“A noble mon'ment of your skill:”
“A monument? that 's fairly said;
“Many that way my skill hath sped:
“But ev'ry man best knows his part;
“And if he have so brave a heart,
“Why here's a sample of my art:”
Quoth he, “this armour I first made,
“When I was youthful in the trade,
“And, but Duke Æneus had no wit,
“For him I had imagin'd it:
“However, 'tis a noble piece,
“As you shall look on through all Greece,
“And, if you take it, it is sold
“For fifty pieces of pure gold:
“I warrant it”—said Heliodore,
“Here count your fifty pieces o'er,
“I take it on your word: no more!”—
Then with her took the armour home,
And straight into an inn they come:
Then purchas'd the brave maid a steed,
And fairly rode into the mead:
“Farewell, Caneura: if I die,
“Under a marble let me lie,
“And these few words, my truth to prove,
“I died for Frangipani's love.”

The crimson morn was laughing now:
She heard, upon a mountain's brow,
The blazing trumpet's silver roar,
And steeds, that neigh'd along the shore:
The cries of men, like wolves, whom rage
Of hunger doth to fight engage,
That the pale moon away doth fly,
Eclipsed by their famish'd cry:
The crash of armour, like the roar
Of ice, that breaks upon the shore:
Then victory, sweet victory!
She heard the brave Athenians cry:
And then the tide of sound did fly,
And then again approach'd her nigh,
For now it ebb'd, and now it flow'd,
As smil'd or frown'd the warlike God.
At last upon her ear it came,
Like sudden, and soul-startling flame,
And, as a rocky point she turn'd,
Before her all the battle burn'd:
It may be, then her purpose quail'd,
But love, immortal love prevail'd;
For casting round a fearful look,
The blood almost her heart forsook,
Beholding Frangipani's crest
By numbers on all sides opprest.
He rag'd, as doth a warlike boar,
Hemm'd in by hunters on the shore,
Or as a rav'nous eagle, when
His mountain nest is scal'd by men.
Now this man, and now that he slew,
But was o'er-power'd by the crew:
Nor could shake off the heavy cloud
Of that unwelcome Turkish crowd.
At last, upon his side there came,
With swiftness of the light'ning's flame,
His spear in rest, a Turkish knight:
When Heliodore perceiv'd the sight,
She gave a cry, as doth a dove,
Who death will for her offspring prove:
And, soul and body, to the fight
She drove her steed against the knight.
Like Jove's divine and winged dart,
Her spear went rightway through the heart,
And o'er his crupper he fell dead:
But Heliodore so swiftly sped,
That, falling o'er the man her steed,
She tumbled headlong on the mead:
And with her foe-man senseless lay,
As both had been but imag'd clay.
Frangipani saw the thing:
And, making for himself a ring,
Like Ajax, with his shield and blade,
Protected the unhappy maid:
Brave Ajax, who, still dear to fame,
A purple hyacinth became:
And, like a hyacinth, on earth
Soiled all it's golden worth,
The pallid Heliodora lay,
To death almost a willing prey.
Whoever came too near the maid,
Full dearly for the trespass paid;
For in his throat, or in his heart,
He felt the steel his spirits part.
At length so many Turks had died,
He was by Pagans fortified
Against the war's o'er-swelling tide.
Then Frangipani, when the roar
Of battle now was nearly o'er,
And to the hills and forests went
The Turkish host incontinent,
The duke of Athens at their heels,
(As when a wolf, appalled, steals
From the pursuing shepherd's rage,)
Began his pitying thoughts t' engage
With help to the brave knight below,
Immersed in a sleep of woe:
His shatter'd helmet he unbound;
And on the verdure all around
The golden tresses 'gan to play,
Like beams of th' Oriental day,
And Heliodore before him lay:
Yes, Heliodore, expiring knight!
At first he fainted at the sight,
And, but he was most brave of men,
His soul had fled to Hades then.
But love recall'd his spirits soon;
And, swifter than the birds in June,
He brought cold water from the spring,
And did it o'er her temples fling.
The maid then open'd her soft eyes,
And what with joy, and with surprise,
When she beheld her lover there,
Again she fainted from the air.
“O Frangipani,” then she said,
When life returned to the maid,
“O Frangipani,” o'er and o'er;
And “O beloved Heliodore!”
As soft, as murmurs are of bees,
Or rivers, flowing to the seas,
Or thunder in the gentle spring,
Launch'd from the hand of nature's king;
So soft these lovers' words and sighs,
And dear unto the deities:
And who can tell the sandy shore,
And of the stars recount the store,
And leaves, that fall in autumn hoar:
He may tell, and he alone,
The kisses, that they made their own.
The duke of Athens join'd their hands,
Love knit them in his golden bands;
And, while the stars their lustre spent,
And to and fro young Hymen went,
The Doge's daughter gave content
For Frangipani's banishment.