ORSINI lived; and long was to be seen An old man wandering as in quest of something, Something he could not find-he knew not what. When he was gone, the house remained awhile Silent and tenantless-then went to strangers.
Full fifty years were past, and all forgot, When on an idle day, a day of search
Mid the old lumber in the Gallery,
That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as GINEVRA, 'Why not remove it from its lurking place?' 'Twas done as soon as said; but on the way It burst, it fell; and lo, a skeleton,
With here and there a pearl, an emerald-stone, A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold. All else had perished-save a nuptial ring, And a small seal, her mother's legacy, Engraven with a name, the name of both, 'GINEVRA.'- -There then had she found a grave! Within that chest had she concealed herself,
Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down for ever!
'TWAS night; the noise and bustle of the day Were o'er. The mountebank no longer wrought Miraculous cures he and his stage were gone; And he who, when the crisis of his tale
Came, and all stood breathless with hope and fear, Sent round his cap; and he who thrummed his wire And sang, with pleading look and plaintive strain
Melting the passenger. Thy thousand Cries,* So well pourtrayed, and by a son of thine, Whose voice had swelled the hubbub in his youth, Were hushed, BOLOGNA, silence in the streets,
The squares, when hark, the clattering of fleet hoofs; And soon a Courier, posting as from far, Housing and holster, boot and belted coat And doublet, stained with many a various soil, Stopt and alighted. 'Twas where hangs aloft That ancient sign, the pilgrim, welcoming All who arrive there, all perhaps save those Clad like himself, with staff and scallop-shell, Those on a pilgrimage. And now approached Wheels, through the lofty porticoes resounding, Arch beyond arch, a shelter or a shade As the sky changes. To the gate they came; And, ere the man had half his story done, Mine host received the Master-one long used To sojourn among strangers, every where (Go where he would, along the wildest track)
* See the Cries of Bologna, as drawn by Annibal Carracci. He was of very humble origin; and, to correct his brother's vanity, once. sent him a portrait of their father, the tailor, threading his needle.
Flinging a charm that shall not soon be lost, And leaving footsteps to be traced by those Who love the haunts of Genius; one who saw, Observed, nor shunned the busy scenes of life, But mingled not, and mid the din, the stir, Lived as a separate Spirit.
Since last we parted; and those five short years— Much had they told! His clustering locks were turned Grey; nor did aught recall the Youth that swam From SESTOs to ABYDOS. Yet his voice, Still it was sweet; still from his eye the thought Flashed lightning-like, nor lingered on the way, Waiting for words. Far, far into the night We sat, conversing-no unwelcome hour, The hour we met; and, when Aurora rose, Rising, we climbed the rugged Apennine.
Well I remember how the golden sun Filled with its beams the unfathomable gulfs, As on we travelled, and along the ridge, Mid groves of cork and cistus and wild-fig,
His motley household came—
BATTISTA, who, upon the moonlight-sea
Of VENICE, had so ably, zealously,
Served, and, at parting, thrown his oar away To follow through the world; who without stain Had worn so long that honourable badge, The gondolier's, in a Patrician House
Arguing unlimited trust.*-Not last nor least, Thou, tho' declining in thy beauty and strength, Faithful MORETTO, to the latest hour Guarding his chamber-door, and now along The silent, sullen strand of MISSOLONGHI Howling in grief.-He had just left that Place Of old renown, once in the ADRIAN sea,† RAVENNA! where, from DANTE's sacred tomb He had so oft, as many a verse declares,‡ Drawn inspiration; where, at twilight-time, Thro' the pine-forest wandering with loose rein, Wandering and lost, he had so oft beheld (What is not visible to a Poet's eye?)
The spectre-knight, the hell-hounds and their prey, The chase, the slaughter, and the festal mirth
* The principal gondolier, il fante di poppa, was almost always in the confidence of his master, and employed on occasions that required judgment and address.
+ 'Adrianum mare.'-Cic.
See the Prophecy of Dante.
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