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(From Italy)
THIS house was Andrea Doria’s. Here he lived; | |
| And here at eve relaxing, when ashore, | |
| Held many a pleasant, many a grave discourse | |
| With them that sought him, walking to and fro | |
| As on his deck. ’T is less in length and breadth | 5 |
| Than many a cabin in a ship of war; | |
| But ’t is of marble, and at once inspires | |
| The reverence due to ancient dignity. | |
| He left it for a better; and ’t is now | |
| A house of trade, the meanest merchandise | 10 |
| Cumbering its floors. Yet, fallen as it is, | |
| ’T is still the noblest dwelling, even in Genoa! | |
| And hadst thou, Andrea, lived there to the last, | |
| Thou hadst done well; for there is that without, | |
| That in the wall, which monarchs could not give, | 15 |
| Nor thou take with thee, that which says aloud, | |
| It was thy country’s gift to her deliverer. | |
| ’T is in the heart of Genoa (he who comes | |
| Must come on foot) and in a place of stir; | |
| Men on their daily business, early and late, | 20 |
| Thronging thy very threshold. But, when there, | |
| Thou wert among thy fellow-citizens, | |
| Thy children, for they hailed thee as their sire: | |
| And on a spot thou must have loved, for there, | |
| Calling them round, thou gav’st them more than life, | 25 |
| Giving what, lost, makes life not worth the keeping. | |
| There thou didst do, indeed, an act divine; | |
| Nor couldst thou leave thy door or enter in, | |
Without a blessing on thee.
Thou art now | |
| Again among them. Thy brave mariners, | 30 |
| They who had fought so often by thy side, | |
| Staining the mountain-billows, bore thee back; | |
| And thou art sleeping in thy funeral-chamber. | |
| Thine was a glorious course; but couldst thou there | |
| Clad in thy cere-cloth,—in that silent vault, | 35 |
| Where thou art gathered to thy ancestors,— | |
| Open thy secret heart and tell us all, | |
| Then should we hear thee with a sigh confess, | |
| A sigh how heavy, that thy happiest hours | |
| Were passed before these sacred walls were left, | 40 |
| Before the ocean-wave thy wealth reflected, | |
| And pomp and power drew envy, stirring up | |
| The ambitious man, that in a perilous hour | |
| Fell from the plank. | |
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