Do but more touchingly recal
Man's headstrong violence and Time's fleetness,
Making the precincts ye adorn
Appear to sight still more forlorn

XXIV.

IN LOMBARDY.

SEE, where his difficult way that Old Man wins
Bent by a load of Mulberry leaves!-most hard
Appears his lot, to the small Worm's compared,
For whom his toil with early day begins.
Acknowledging no task-master, at will
(As if her labour and her ease were twins)
She seems to work, at pleasure to lie still;-
And softly sleeps within the thread she spins.
So fare they-the Man serving as her Slave.
Ere long their fates do each to each conform:
Both pass into new being,-but the Worm,
Transfigured, sinks into a hopeless grave;
His volant Spirit will, he trusts, ascend
To bliss unbounded, glory without end.

As indignation mastered grief, my tongue
Spake bitter words; words that did ill agree
With those rich stores of Nature's imagery,
And divine Art, that fast to memory clung-
Thy gifts, magnificent Region, ever young
In the sun's eye, and in his sister's sight
How beautiful! how worthy to be sung
In strains of rapture, or subdued delight!
I feign not; witness that unwelcome shock
That followed the first sound of German speech,
Caught the far-winding barrier Alps among.
In that announcement, greeting seemed to mock
Parting; the casual word had power to reach
My heart, and filled that heart with conflict

strong.

THE PILLAR OF TRAJAN. WHERE towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds

O'er mutilated arches shed their seeds,
And temples, doomed to milder change, unfold
A new magnificence that vies with old;
Firm in its pristine majesty hath stood
A votive Column, spared by fire and flood:-
And, though the passions of man's fretful race
Have never ceased to eddy round its base,
Not injured more by touch of meddling hands
Than a lone obelisk, 'mid Nubian sands,
Or aught in Syrian deserts left to save
From death the memory of the good and brave.
Historic figures round the shaft embost
Ascend, with lineaments in air not lost :
Still as he turns, the charmed spectator sees
Group winding after group with dream-like ease
Triumphs in sunbright gratitude displayed,
Or softly stealing into modest shade.

-So, pleased with purple clusters to entwine Some lofty elm-tree, mounts the daring vine; The woodbine so, with spiral grace, and breathes Wide spreading odours from her flowery

wreaths.

Things that recoil from language; that, if shown
By apter pencil, from the light had flown.
A Fontiff, Trajan here the Gods implores,
There greets an Embassy from Indian shores:
Lo! he harangues his cohorts-there the storm
Of battle meets him in authentic form!
Unharnessed, naked, troops of Moorish horse
Sweep to the charge; more high, the Dacian

force,

To hoof and finger mailed :-yet, high or low,
None bleed, and none lie prostrate but the foe;
In every Roman, through all turns of fate,
Is Roman dignity inviolate;

Spirit in him pre-eminent, who guides.

And turned his eagles back with deep-drawn sighs;

O weakness of the Great! O folly of the Wise!

Where now the haughty Empire that was spread

With such fond hope? her very speech is dead;
Yet glorious Art the power of Time defies,
And Trajan still, through various enterprise,
Mounts, in this fine illusion, toward the skies:
Still are we present with the imperial Chief,
Nor cease to gaze upon the bold Relief
Till Rome, to silent marble unconfined,
Becomes with all her years a vision of the Mind.

WHILE Merlin paced the Cornish sands,
Forth-looking toward the rocks of Scilly,
The pleased Enchanter was aware

Of a bright Ship that seemed to hang in air,
Yet was she work of mortal hands,

And took from men her name-THE WATER LILY.

Soft was the wind, that landward blew ; And, as the Moon, o'er some dark hill ascendant,

Grows from a little edge of light

To a full orb, this Pinnace bright
Became, as nearer to the coast she drew,
More glorious, with spread sail and streaming
pendant.

Upon this winged Shape so fair
Sage Merlin gazed with admiration:
Her lineaments, thought he, surpass

Aught that was ever shown in magic glass;
Was ever built with patient care;

Or, at a touch, produced by happiest transfor

The clouas in blacker clouds are lost,
Like spiteful Fiends that vanish, crossed
By Fiends of aspect more malign:

And the winds roused the Deep with fiercer
Scourges.

But worthy of the name she bore

Was this Sea-flower, this buoyant Galley; Supreme in loveliness and grace

Of motion, whether in the embrace
Of trusty anchorage, or scudding o'er
The main flood roughened into hill and valley.
Behold, how wantonly she laves

Her sides, the Wizard's craft confounding;
Like something out of Ocean sprung
To be for ever fresh and young,

Breasts the sea-flashes, and huge waves
Top-gallant high, rebounding and rebounding!
But Ocean under magic heaves,

And cannot spare the Thing he cherished: Ah! what avails that she was fair, Luminous, blithe, and debonair?

The storm has stripped her of her leaves: The Lily floats no longer!-She hath perished. Grieve for her, she deserves no less; So like, yet so unlike, a living Creature! No heart had she, no busy brain; Though loved, she could not love again; Nor aught that troubles us, the fools of Nature. Though pitied, feel her own distress: Yet is there cause for gushing tears, So richly was this Galley laden; A fairer than herself she bore, And, in her struggles, cast ashore; A lovely One, who nothing hears

Of wind or wave-a meek and guileless Maiden. Into a cave had Merlin fled

From mischief, caused by spells himself had muttered;

And while, repentant all too late,

In moody posture there he sate, He heard a voice, and saw, with half-raised head,

A Visitant by whom these words were uttered; "On Christian service this frail Bark

Sailed (hear me, Merlin!) under high protection,

Though on her prow a sign of heathen power Was carved-a Goddess with a Lily flower, The old Egyptian's emblematic mark Of joy immortal and of pure affection.

Her course was for the British strand; Her freight, it was a Damsel peerless; God reigns above, and Spirits strong May gather to avenge this wrong Done to the Princess, and her Land Which she in duty left, sad but not cheerless.

And to Caerleon's loftiest tower

Soon will the Knights of Arthur's Table
A cry of lamentation send ;

And all will weep who there attend,
To grace that Stranger's bridal hour,
For whom the sea was made unnavigable.
Shame! should a Child of royal line

Die through the blindness of thy malice!"
Thus to the Necromancer spake
Nina, the Lady of the Lake,

A gentle Sorceress, and benign,
Who ne'er embittered any good man's chalice.
"What boots," continued she, "to mourn?
To expiate thy sin endeavour:
From the bleak isle where she is laid,
Fetched by our art, the Egyptian Maid
May yet to Arthur's court be borne
Cold as she is, ere life be fled for ever.
My pearly Boat, a shining Light,
That brought me down that sunless river,
Will bear me on from wave to wave,
And back with her to this sea-cave ;--
Then Merlin! for a rapid flight
Through air, to thee my Charge will I deliver.
The very swiftest of thy cars

Must, when my part is done, be ready;
Meanwhile, for further guidance, look
Into thy own prophetic book;

And, if that fail, consult the Stars

To learn thy course; farewell! be prompt and steady."

This scarcely spoken, she again
Was seated in her gleaming shallop,
That, o'er the yet-distempered Deep,
Pursued its way with bird-like sweep,
Or like a steed, without a rein,

Urged o'er the wilderness in sportive gallop.
Soon did the gentle Nina reach
That Isle without a house or haven;
Landing, she found not what she sought,
Nor saw of wreck or ruin aught
But a carved Lotus cast upon the beach
By the fierce waves, a flower in marble.
graven.
Sad relique, but how fair the while!
For gently each from each retreating
With backward curve, the leaves revealed
The bosom half, and half concealed,
Of a Divinity, that seemed to smile

On Nina, as she passed, with hopeful greeting.
No quest was hers of vague desire,

Of tortured hope and purpose shaken;

Following the margin of a bay,
She spied the lonely Cast-away,
Unmarred, unstripped o her attire,
But with closed eyes,-of breath and bloom
forsaken.

Then Nina, stooping down, embraced,
With tenderness and mild emotion,
The Damsel, in that trance embound;
And, while she raised her from the ground,
And in the pearly shallop placed,

Sleep fell upon the air, and stilled the ocean.
The turmoil hushed, celestial springs
Of music opened, and there came a blending
Offragrance, underived from earth,

With gleams that owed not to the sun their birth,

And that soft rustling of invisible wings Which Angels make, on works of love descend,

ing.

And Nina heard a sweeter voice

Than if the Goddess of the flower had spoken: "Thou hast achieved, fair Dame! what none Less pure in spirit could have done;

Go, in thy enterprise rejoice!

Air, earth, sea, sky, and heaven, success betoken."

So cheered, she left that Island bleak,
A bare rock of the Scilly cluster;

And, as they traversed the smooth brine,
The self-illumined Brigantine

Shed, on the Slumberer's cold wan cheek
And pallid brow, a melancholy lustre.

Fleet was their course, and when they came To the dim cavern, whence the river Issued into the salt-sea flood, Merlin, as fixed in thought he stood, Was thus accosted by the Dame; "Behold to thee my Charge I now deliver! But where attends thy chariot-where?"Quoth Merlin, "Even as I was bidden, So have I done; as trusty as thy barge My vehicle shall prove-O precious Charge! If this be sleep, how soft! if death, how fair! Much have my books disclosed, but the end is hidden."

He spake; and gliding into view

Forth from the grotto's dimmest chamber Came two mute Swans, whose plumes of dusky white

Changed, as the pair approached the light, Drawing an ebon car, their hue

(Like clouds of sunset) into lucid amber

Once more did gentle Nina lift

The Princess, passive to all changes:
The car received her :-then up-went

Into the ethereal element

The Birds with progress smooth and swift As thought, when through bright regions me

mory ranges.

Sage Merlin, at the Slumberer's side, Instructs the Swans their way to measure; And soon Caerleon's towers appeared, And notes of minstrelsy were heard From rich pavilions spreading wide, For some high day of long-expected pleasure. Awe-stricken stood both Knights and Dames Ere on firm ground the car alighted; Eftsoons astonishment was past,

Р

For in that face they saw the last,
Last lingering look of clay, that tames
All pride; by which all happiness is blighted.
Said Merlin," Mighty King, fair Lords,
Away with feast and tilt and tourney!
Ye saw, throughout this royal House,
Ye heard, a rocking marvellous
Of turrets, and a clash of swords
Self-shaken, as I closed my airy journey.
Lo! by a destiny well known

To mortals, joy is turned to sorrow;
This is the wished-for Bride, the Maid

Of Egypt, from a rock conveyed Where she by shipwreck had been thrown; Ill sight! but grief may vanish ere the morrow.' "Though vast thy power, thy words are weak,"

Exclaimed the King, "a mockery hateful; Dutiful Child, her lot how hard!

Is this her piety's reward?

Those watery locks, that bloodless cheek! Owinds without remorse! O shore ungrateful! Rich robes are fretted by the moth; Towers, temples, fall by stroke of thunder; Will that, or deeper thoughts, abate A Father's sorrow for her fate? He will repent him of his troth;

His brain will burn, his stout heart split asunder.

Alas! and I have caused this woe:

For, when my prowess from invading Neigh

bours

Had freed his Realm, he plighted word That he would turn to Christ our Lord, And his dear Daughter on a Knight bestow Whom I should choose for love and matchless labours.

Her birth was heathen; but a fence

Of holy Angels round her hovered:
A Lady added to my court

So fair, of such divine report
And worship, seemed a recompense
For fifty kingdoms by my sword recovered.
Ask not for whom, O Champions true!
She was reserved by me her life's betrayer;
She who was meant to be a bride
Is now a corse: then put aside

Vain thoughts, and speed ye, with observance due

Of Christian rites, in Christian ground to lay her."

"The tomb," said Merlin, "may not close
Upon her yet, earth hide her beauty;
Not froward to thy sovereign will
Esteem me, Liege! if I, whose skill
Wafted her hither, interpose

To check this pious haste of erring duty.

My books command me to lay bare
The secret thou art bent on keeping:
Here must a high attest be given,

What Bridegroom was for her ordained by
Heaven:

And in my glass significants there are Of things that may to gladness turn this weeping.

For this, approaching One by One,

Thy Knights must touch the cold hand of the

Virgin;

So, for the favoured One, the Flower may

bloom

Once more: but, if unchangeable her doom, If life departed be for ever gone,

Some blest assurance, from this cloud emerging. May teach him to bewail his loss;

Not with a grief that, like a vapour, rises And melts; but grief devout that shall endure,

And a perpetual growth secure

Of purposes which no false thought shall

cross,

A harvest of high hopes and noble enterprises. "So be it," said the King:-"anon,

Here, where the Princess lies, begin the trial; Knights, each in order as ye stand

Step forth."-To touch the pallid hand Sir Agravaine advanced; no sign he won From Heaven or earth;-Sir Kaye had like denial.

Abashed, Sir Dinas turned away:

Even for Sir Percival was no disclosure;
Though he, devoutest of all Champions, ere
He reached that ebon car, the bier
Whereon diffused like snow the Damsel lay,'
Full thrice had crossed himself in meek com-
posure.

Imagine (but ye Saints! who can?)
How in still air the balance trembled-
The wishes, peradventure the despites

That overcame some not ungenerous Knights
And all the thoughts that lengthened out

span

Of time to Lords and Ladies thus assembled.
What patient confidence was here!
And there how many bosoms panted!
While drawing toward the car Sir Gawaine,
mailed

For tournament, his beaver vailed,

And softly touched; but, to his princely cheer

And high expectancy, no sign was granted.
Next, disencumbered of his harp,

Sir Tristram, dear to thousands as a brother, Came to the proof, nor grieved that there ensued

No change; the fair Izonda he had wooed With love too true, a love with pangs too

sharp,

From hope too distant, not to dread another.

Not so Sir Launcelot :- from Heaven's grace A sign he craved, tired slave of vain contrition;

The royal Guinever looked passing glad When his touch failed.-Next came Sir Gala

had;

He paused, and stood entranced by that still face

Whose features he had seen in noontide vision.
For late, as near a murmuring stream
He rested 'mid an arbour green and shady,
Nina, the good Enchantress, shed
A light around his mossy bed;
And, at her call, a waking dream
Prefigured to his sense the Egyptian Lady.

Now, while his bright-haired front he bowed, And stood, far-kenned by mantle furred with ermine,