| |
| OVER how many tracts, vast, measureless, | |
| Ages on ages roll, and none appear | |
| Save the wild hunter ranging for his prey; | |
| While on this spot of earth, the work of man, | |
| How much has been transacted! Emperors, popes, | 5 |
| Warriors, from far and wide, laden with spoil, | |
| Landing, have here performed their several parts, | |
| Then left the stage to others. Not a stone | |
| In the broad pavement, but to him who has | |
| An eye, an ear for the inanimate world, | 10 |
Tells of past ages.
In that temple-porch | |
| (The brass is gone, the porphyry remains) | |
| Did Barbarossa fling his mantle off, | |
| And, kneeling, on his neck receive the foot | |
| Of the proud Pontiff,—thus at last consoled | 15 |
| For flight, disguise, and many an aguish shake | |
On his stone pillow.
In that temple-porch, | |
| Old as he was, so near his hundredth year, | |
| And blind,—his eyes put out,—did Dandolo | |
| Stand forth, displaying on his crown the cross. | 20 |
| There did he stand, erect, invincible, | |
| Though wan his cheeks, and wet with many tears, | |
| For in his prayers he had been weeping much; | |
| And now the pilgrims and the people wept | |
| With admiration, saying in their hearts, | 25 |
| “Surely those aged limbs have need of rest!” | |
| There did he stand, with his old armor on, | |
| Ere, gonfalon in hand, that streamed aloft, | |
| As conscious of its glorious destiny, | |
| So soon to float o’er mosque and minaret, | 30 |
| He sailed away, five hundred gallant ships, | |
| Their lofty sides hung with emblazoned shields, | |
| Following his track to fame. He went to die; | |
| But of his trophies four arrived erelong, | |
| Snatched from destruction,—the four steeds divine, | 35 |
| That strike the ground, resounding with their feet, | |
| And from their nostrils snort ethereal flame | |
| Over that very porch; and in the place | |
| Where in an after-time, beside the Doge, | |
| Sate one yet greater, one whose verse shall live | 40 |
| When the wave rolls o’er Venice. High he sate, | |
| High over all, close by the ducal chair, | |
| At the right hand of his illustrious host, | |
| Amid the noblest daughters of the realm, | |
| Their beauty shaded from the western ray | 45 |
| By many-colored hangings; while, beneath, | |
| Knights of all nations, some of fair renown | |
| From England, from victorious Edward’s court, | |
| Their lances in the rest, charged for the prize. * * * * * | |
| |
