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(From Italy)
IT was a well | |
| Of whitest marble, white as from the quarry; | |
| And richly wrought with many a high relief, | |
| Greek sculpture,—in some earlier day perhaps | |
| A tomb, and honored with a hero’s ashes. | 5 |
| The water from the rock filled, overflowed it; | |
| Then dashed away, playing the prodigal, | |
| And soon was lost,—stealing, unseen, unheard, | |
| Through the long grass, and round the twisted roots | |
| Of aged trees,—discovering where it ran | 10 |
| By the fresh verdure. Overcome with heat, | |
| I threw me down, admiring, as I lay, | |
| That shady nook, a singing-place for birds, | |
| That grove so intricate, so full of flowers, | |
| More than enough to please a maid a-Maying. | 15 |
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| The sun was down, a distant convent-bell | |
| Ringing the Angelus; and now approached | |
| The hour for stir and village gossip there, | |
| The hour Rebekah came, when from the well | |
| She drew with such alacrity to serve | 20 |
| The stranger and his camels. Soon I heard | |
| Footsteps; and, lo, descending by a path | |
| Trodden for ages, many a nymph appeared, | |
| Appeared and vanished, bearing on her head | |
| Her earthen pitcher. It called up the day | 25 |
| Ulysses landed there; and long I gazed, | |
| Like one awaking in a distant time. | |
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| At length there came the loveliest of them all, | |
| Her little brother dancing down before her; | |
| And ever as he spoke, which he did ever, | 30 |
| Turning and looking up in warmth of heart | |
| And brotherly affection. Stopping there, | |
| She joined her rosy hands, and, filling them | |
| With the pure element, gave him to drink; | |
| And, while he quenched his thirst, standing on tiptoe, | 35 |
| Looked down upon him with a sister’s smile, | |
| Nor stirred till he had done,—fixed as a statue. | |
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| Then hadst thou seen them as they stood, Canova, | |
| Thou hadst endowed them with eternal youth; | |
| And they had evermore lived undivided, | 40 |
| Winning all hearts,—of all thy works the fairest! | |
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