The musky odor of the serpents came;

Their slimy track across the woodman's path
Bright in the moonshine; and, as round I went,
Dreaming of GREECE, whither the waves were gliding,
I listened to the venerable pines

Then in close converse, and, if right I guessed,
Delivering many a message to the winds,
In secret, for their kindred on Mount IDA.91
Nor when again in VENICE, when again
In that strange place, so stirring and so still,
Where nothing comes to drown the human voice
But music, or the dashing of the tide,
Ceased I to wander. Now a JESSICA
Sung to her lute, her signal as she sate
At her half-open window. Then, methought,
A serenade broke silence, breathing hope
Through walls of stone, and torturing the proud heart
Of some PRIULI. Once, we could not err

(It was before an old Palladian house,
As between night and day we floated by),
A gondolier lay singing; and he sung,
As in the time when VENICE was herself,
Of TANCRED and ERMINIA.92 On our oars
We rested; and the verse was verse divine!
We could not err—perhaps he was the last
For none took up the strain, none answered him;
And, when he ceased, he left upon my ear
A something like the dying voice of VENICE!
The moon went down; and nothing now was seen
Save where the lamp of a Madonna shone

— or heard, but when he spoke, who stood

Faintly-
Over the lantern at the prow and cried,

Turning the corner of some reverend pile,
Some school or hospital of old renown, *
Though haply none were coming, none were near,
"Hasten or slacken." But at length Night fled;
And with her fled, scattering, the sons of Pleasure.
Star after star shot by, or, meteor-like,

Crossed me and vanished — lost at once among
Those hundred isles that tower majestically,
That rise abruptly from the water-mark,
Not with rough crag, but marble, and the work
Of noblest architects. I lingered still;
Nor sought my threshold," till the hour was come
And past, when, flitting home in the gray light,
The young BIANCA found her father's door,"
That door so often with a trembling hand,
So often then so lately left ajar,
Shut; and, all terror, all perplexity,
Now by her lover urged, now by her love,
Fled o'er the waters to return no more.

95

THE BRIDES OF VENICE.%

Ir was St. Mary's Eve, and all poured forth
For some great festival. The fisher came
From his green islet, bringing o'er the waves
His wife and little one; the husbandman
From the firm land, with many a friar and nun,
And village-maiden, her first flight from home,
Crowding the common ferry. All arrived;
And in his straw the prisoner
So great the stir in VENICE.

turned to hear,

Old and young

Thronged her three hundred bridges ; the
grave Turk
Turbaned, long-vested, and the cozening Jew
In yellow hat and threadbare gabardine,
Hurrying along. For, as the custom was,
The noblest sons and daughters of the state,
Whose names are written in the Book of Gold,
Were on that day to solemnize their nuptials.

At noon a distant murmur, through the crowd
Rising and rolling on, proclaimed them near;
And never from their earliest hour was seen
Such splendor or such beauty." Two and two
(The richest tapestry unrolled before them),
First came the brides; each in her virgin-veil,
Nor unattended by her bridal maids,
The two that, step by step, behind her bore
The small but precious caskets that contained
The dowry and the presents. On she moved
In the sweet seriousness of virgin-youth;
Her eyes cast down, and holding in her hand
A fan, that gently waved, of ostrich-plumes.
Her veil, transparent as the gossamer,
Fell from beneath a starry diadem ;
And on her dazzling neck a jewel shone,
Ruby or diamond or dark amethyst;

98

A jewelled chain, in many a winding wreath,
Wreathing her gold brocade.

Before the church,
That venerable structure now no more 99
On the sea-brink, another train they met,
No strangers, nor unlooked for ere they came,
Brothers to some, still dearer to the rest;
Each in his hand bearing his cap and plume

And, as he walked, with modest dignity
Folding his scarlet mantle. At the gate
They join; and slowly up the bannered aisle
Led by the choir, with due solemnity

Range round the altar. In his vestments there
The Patriarch stands; and, while the anthem flows,
Who can look on unmoved the dream of years
Just now fulfilling! Here a mother weeps,
Rejoicing in her daughter. There a son
Blesses the day that is to make her his;
While she shines forth through all her ornament,
Her beauty heightened by her hopes and fears.

At length the rite is ending. All fall down,
All of all ranks; and, stretching out his hands,
Apostle-like, the holy man proceeds

To give the blessing- not a stir, a breath;
When, hark! a din of voices from without,
And shrieks and groans and outcries as in battle '
And, lo! the door is burst, the curtain rent,
And armed ruffians, robbers from the deep,
Savage, uncouth, led on by BARBERIGO
And his six brothers in their coats of steel,
Are standing on the threshold! Statue-like
A while they gaze on the fallen multitude,
Each with his sabre up, in act to strike;
Then, as at once recovering from the spell,
Rush forward to the altar, and as soon

Are gone again amid no clash of arms

Bearing away the maidens and the treasures.

Where are they now?-ploughing the distant waves

Their sails outspread and given to the wind,

They on their decks triumphant. On they speed,

Steering for ISTRIA; their accursed barks

(Well are they known 100 the galliot and the galley) Freighted, alas! with all that life endears! The richest argosies were poor to them!

Now hadst thou seen along that crowded shore
The matrons running wild, their festal dress
A strange and moving contrast to their grief;
And through the city, wander where thou wouldst,
The men half armed and arming — everywhere
As roused from slumber by the stirring trump;
One with a shield, one with a casque and spear;
One with an axe severing in two the chain
Of some old pinnace. Not a raft, a plank,
But on that day was drifting. In an hour
Half VENICE was afloat. But long before,
Frantic with grief and scorning all control,
The youths were gone in a light brigantine,
Lying at anchor near the arsenal;

Each having sworn, and by the holy rood,
To slay or to be slain.

And from the tower

The watchman gives the signal. In the east

A ship is seen, and making for the port;

Her flag St. Mark's. And now she turns the point, Over the waters like a sea-bird flying!

Ha! 't is the same, 't is theirs! from stern to prow Green with victorious wreaths, she comes to bring All that was lost.

FRIULI

Coasting, with narrow search,

like a tiger in his spring,

They had surprised the corsairs where they lay 101

Sharing the spoil in blind security