And who in long array (look where they come;
Their gestures menacing so far and wide)

Wear the green turban and the heron's plume?
Who- but the Caliphs? followed fast by shapes
As new and strange- Emperor, and King, and Czar,
And Soldan, each, with a gigantic stride,
Trampling on all the flourishing works of peace
To make his greatness greater, and inscribe
His name in blood-some, men of steel, steel-clad ;
Others, nor long, alas! the interval,

In light and gay attire, with brow serene

Wielding Jove's thunder, scattering sulphurous fire
Mingled with darkness; and, among the rest,
Lo! one by one, passing continually,
Those who assume a sway beyond them all;
Men gray with age, each in a triple crown,
And in his tremulous hands grasping the keys
That can alone, as he would signify,
Unlock Heaven's gate.

LUIGI.

HAPPY is he who loves companionship,
And lights on thee, LUIGI. Thee I found,
Playing at MORA on the cabin-roof

Fire from the coldest heart. What then from thine ?

And, ere the twentieth throw, I had resolved,
Won by thy looks. Thou wert an honest lad ;
Wert generous, grateful, not without ambition.

Had it depended on thy will alone,

Thou wouldst have numbered in thy family
At least six Doges and the first in fame.
But that was not to be. In thee I saw
The last, if not the least, of a long line,
Who in their forest, for three hundred years,
Had lived and labored, cutting, charring wood;
Discovering where they were, to those astray,
By the reëchoing stroke, the crash, the fall,
Or the blue wreath that travelled slowly up
Into the sky. Thy nobler destinies

Led thee away to justle in the crowd;

And there I found thee trying once again,
What for thyself thou hadst prescribed so oft,
A change of air and diet - once again
Crossing the sea, and springing to the shore
As though thou knewest where to dine and sleep.
First in BOLOGNA didst thou plant thyself,
Serving behind a cardinal's gouty chair,
Listening and oft replying, jest for jest;
Then in FERRARA, everything by turns,
So great thy genius and so Proteus-like!
Now serenading in a lover's train,
And measuring swords with his antagonist;
Now carving, cup-bearing in halls of state;
And now a guide to the lorn traveller,
A very Cicerone-yet, alas!

How unlike him who fulmined in old ROME!
Dealing out largely in exchange for pence

Thy scraps of knowledge — through the grassy street
Leading, explaining-pointing to the bars

Of TASSO's dungeon, and the Latin verse,
Graven in the stone, that yet denotes the door
Of ARIOSTO.

Many a year is gone

Since on the RHINE we parted; yet, methinks,
I can recall thee to the life, LUIGI,

In our long journey ever by my side;

Thy locks jet-black, and clustering round a face
Open as day and full of manly daring.
Thou hadst a hand, a heart for all that came,
Herdsman or pedler, monk or muleteer;

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And few there were that met thee not with smiles.
Mishap passed o'er thee like a summer-cloud.
Cares thou hadst none; and they that stood to hear thee
Caught the infection and forgot their own.
Nature conceived thee in her merriest mood,
Her happiest not a speck was in the sky;
And at thy birth the cricket chirped, LUIGI,
Thine a perpetual voice at every turn
A larum to the echo. In a clime

Where all were gay, none were so gay as thou;
Thou, like a babe, hushed only by thy slumbers;
Up hill and down hill, morning, noon and night,
Singing or talking; singing to thyself
When none gave ear, but to the listener talking.

ST. MARK'S PLACE.

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,
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,
Tells of past ages.

In that temple-porch
(The brass is gone, the porphyry remains67)
Did BARBAROSSA fling his mantle off,
And kneeling, on his neck receive the foot
Of the proud Pontiff 68-thus at last consoled
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. 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,
"Surely those aged limbs have need of rest!" "0
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,
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 ere long,
Snatched from destruction-the four steeds divine,
That strike the ground, resounding with their feet,70

And froin their nostrils snort ethereal flame
Over that very porch; and in the place
Where in an aftertime, beside the Doge,

Sate one yet greater," one whose verse shall live
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
By many-colored hangings; while, beneath,
Knights of all nations,72 some of fair renown
From ENGLAND,73 from victorious EDWARD'S court,
Their lances in the rest, charged for the prize.

Here, among other pageants, and how oft
It met the eye, borne through the gazing crowd,
As if returning to console the least,
Instruct the greatest, did the Doge go round;
Now in a chair of state, now on his bier.
They were his first appearance, and his last.

The sea, that emblem of uncertainty,
Changed not so fast, for many and many an age,
As this small spot. To-day 't was full of masks;
And, lo! the madness of the Carnival,

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Underneath

The monk, the nun, the holy legate masked!
To-morrow came the scaffold and the wheel;
And he died there by torch-light, bound and gagged
Whose name and crime they knew not.
Where the Archangel," as alighted there,
Blesses the city from the topmost tower,
His arms extended-there, in monstrous league,
Two phantom-shapes were sitting, side by side,
Or up, and, as in sport, chasing each other;