Yet oft withdrew, alone and unobserved,
To wander through those awful solitudes)
Nature revealed herself. Unveiled she stood
In all her wildness, all her majesty,
As in that elder time ere man was made.
There would I linger - then go forth again;
And he who steers due east, doubling the cape,
Discovers, in a crevice of the rock,
The fishing-town, AMALFI. Haply there
A heaving bark, an anchor on the strand,
May tell him what it is; but what it was
Cannot be told so soon.309
The time has been,
When on the quays along the SYRIAN coast
'T was asked, and eagerly, at break of dawn,
"What ships are from AMALFI?" when her coins,
Silver and gold, circled from clime to clime;
From ALEXANDRIA southward to SENNAAR,
And eastward, through DAMASCUS and CABUL
And SAMARCAND, to thy great wall, CATHAY. $10
Then were the nations by her wisdom swayed; And every crime on every sea was judged According to her judgments. In her port Prows, strange, uncouth, from NILE and NIGER met, People of various feature, various speech; And in their countries many a house of prayer, And many a shelter, where no shelter was, And many a well, like JACOB's in the wild, Rose at her bidding. Then in PALESTINE, By the way-side, in sober grandeur stood A hospital, that, night and day, received The pilgrims of the west; and, when 't was asked,
"Who are the noble founders?" every tongue
At once replied, "The merchants of AMALFI."
That hospital, when GODFREY scaled the walls,
Sent forth its holy men in complete steel;
And hence, the cowl relinquished for the helm,
That chosen band, valiant, invincible,
So long renowned as champions of the cross,
In RHODES, in MALTA.
For three hundred years
There, unapproached but from the deep, they dwelt;
Assailed forever, yet from age to age
Acknowledging no master. From the deep
They gathered in their harvests; bringing home,
In the same ship, relics of ancient GREECE,
That land of glory where their fathers lay,
Grain from the golden vales of SICILY, 311
And INDIAN spices. Through the civilized world
Their credit was ennobled into fame;
And, when at length they fell, they left mankind
A legacy, compared with which the wealth
And with them all they did, all they endured,
Struggling with fortune. When SICARDI stood
On his high deck, his falchion in his hand,
And, with a shout like thunder, cried, "Come forth,
And serve me in SALERNO!" forth they came,
Covering the sea, a mournful spectacle;
The women wailing, and the heavy oar
Falling unheard. Not thus did they return, 313
The tyrant slain; though then the grass of years
There now to him who sails
Under the shore, a few white villages
Scattered above, below, some in the clouds,
Some on the margin of the dark-blue sea
And glittering through their lemon-groves, announce
The region of AMALFI. Then, half-fallen,
A lonely watch-tower on the precipice,
Their ancient landmark, comes. Long may it last;
And to the seaman in a distant age,
Though now he little thinks how large his debt,
Serve for their monument! 313
"WHAT hangs behind that curtain?" 315
If thou art wise, thou wouldst not. 'Tis by some
Believed to be his master-work who looked
Beyond the grave, and on the chapel-wall,
As though the day were come, were come and past,
Drew the Last Judgment. 316 But the wisest err.
He who in secret wrought, and gave it life,
For life is surely there and visible change, 317
Life such as none could of himself impart
(They who behold it go not as they came,
But meditate for many and many a day),
Sleeps in the vault beneath. We know not much;
But what we know we will communicate.
'Tis in an ancient record of the house; And may it make thee tremble, lest thou fall!
Once on a Christmas-eve - ere yet the roof
Rung with the hymn of the Nativity,
There came a stranger to the convent-gate,
And asked admittance; ever and anon,
As if he sought what most he feared to find,
Looking behind him. When within the walls,
These walls so sacred and inviolate,
Still did he look behind him; oft and long,
With curling, quivering lip and haggard eye,
Catching at vacancy. Between the fits,
For here, 't is said, he lingered while he lived,
He would discourse, and with a mastery,
A charm by none resisted, none explained,
Unfelt before; but when his cheek grew pale
(Nor was the respite longer, if so long,
Than while a shepherd in the vale below
Counts, as he folds, five hundred of his flock),
All was forgotten. Then, howe'er employed,
He would break off and start as if he caught
A glimpse of something that would not be gone;
And turn and gaze and shrink into himself,
As though the fiend were there, and, face to face,
Scowled o'er his shoulder.
Most unremitting in the services;
Then, only then, untroubled, unassailed;
And, to beguile a melancholy hour,
Would sometimes exercise that noble art
He learnt in FLORENCE; with a master's hand,
As to this day the sacristy attests,
Painting the wonders of the APOCALYPSE.
At length he sunk to rest, and in his cell
Left, when he went, a work in secret done,
The portrait, for a portrait it must be,
That hangs behind the curtain. Whence he drew,
None here can doubt; for they that come to catch
The faintest glimpse - to catch it and be gone —
Gaze as he gazed, then shrink into themselves,
Acting the self-same part. But why 't was drawn,
Whether, in penance, to atone for guilt,
Or to record the anguish guilt inflicts,
Or, haply, to familiarize his mind
With what he could not fly from, none can say,
For none could learn the burden of his soul."
It was a harper, wandering with his harp,
His only treasure; a majestic man,
By time and grief ennobled, not subdued;
Though from his height descending, day by day,
And, as his upward look at once betrayed,
Blind as old HOMER. At a fount he sate,
Well known to many a weary traveller;
His little guide, a boy not seven years old,
But grave, considerate beyond his years,
Sitting beside him. Each had ate his crust
In silence, drinking of the virgin-spring;
And now in silence, as their custom was,
The sun's decline awaited.
Was worn with travel. Heavy sleep weighed down
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