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(From Italy)
DAY glimmered; and beyond the precipice | |
| (Which my mule followed as in love with fear, | |
| Or as in scorn, yet more and more inclining | |
| To tempt the danger where it menaced most) | |
| A sea of vapor rolled. Methought we went | 5 |
| Along the utmost edge of this, our world, | |
| And the next step had hurled us headlong down | |
| Into the wild and infinite abyss; | |
| But soon the surges fled, and we descried | |
| Nor dimly, though the lark was silent yet, | 10 |
| Thy gulf, La Spezzia. Ere the morning-gun, | |
| Ere the first day-streak, we alighted there; | |
| And not a breath, a murmur! Every sail | |
| Slept in the offing. Yet along the shore | |
| Great was the stir; as at the noontide hour, | 15 |
| None unemployed. Where from its native rock | |
| A streamlet, clear and full, ran to the sea, | |
| The maidens knelt and sung as they were wont, | |
| Washing their garments. Where it met the tide, | |
| Sparkling and lost, an ancient pinnace lay | 20 |
| Keel upward, and the fagot blazed, the tar | |
| Fumed from the caldron; while, beyond the fort, | |
| Whither I wandered, step by step led on, | |
| The fishers dragged their net, the fish within | |
| At every heave fluttering and full of life, | 25 |
| At every heave striking their silver fins | |
| ’Gainst the dark meshes. * * * * * | |
| At length the day departed, and the moon | |
| Rose like another sun, illumining | |
| Waters and woods and cloud-capt promontories, | 30 |
| Glades for a hermit’s cell, a lady’s bower, | |
| Scenes of Elysium, such as night alone | |
| Reveals below, nor often,—scenes that fled | |
| As at the waving of a wizard’s wand, | |
| And left behind them, as their parting gift, | 35 |
| A thousand nameless odors. All was still; | |
| And now the nightingale her song poured forth | |
| In such a torrent of heartfelt delight, | |
| So fast it flowed, her tongue so voluble, | |
| As if she thought her hearers would be gone | 40 |
| Ere half was told. ’T was where in the northwest, | |
| Still unassailed and unassailable, | |
| Thy pharos, Genoa, first displayed itself, | |
| Burning in stillness on its craggy seat; | |
| That guiding star so oft the only one, | 45 |
| When those now glowing in the azure vault | |
| Are dark and silent. ’T was where o’er the sea | |
| (For we were now within a cable’s length) | |
| Delicious gardens hung; green galleries, | |
| And marble terraces in many a flight, | 50 |
| And fairy arches flung from cliff to cliff, | |
| Wildering, enchanting; and, above them all, | |
| A palace, such as somewhere in the East, | |
| In Zenastan or Araby the blest, | |
| Among its golden groves and fruits of gold, | 55 |
| And fountains scattering rainbows in the sky, | |
| Rose, when Aladdin rubbed the wondrous lamp,— | |
| Such, if not fairer; and when we shot by, | |
| A scene of revelry, in long array | |
| As with the radiance of the setting sun, | 60 |
| The windows blazing. But we now approached | |
| A city far-renowned; and wonder ceased. | |
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