X.

And all I remember is, friends flocking round

As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground,
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)

Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent,

PICTOR IGNOTUS.
[FLORENCE, 15-.]

I COULD have painted pictures like that youth's
Ye praise so. How my soul springs up! No bar
Stayed me-ah, thought which saddens while it soothes
Never did fate forbid me, star by star,

To outburst on your night with all my gift

Of fires from God: nor would my flesh have shrunk From seconding my soul, with eyes uplift

And wide to Heaven, or, straight like thunder, sunk
To the centre, of an instant; or around

Turned calmly and inquisitive, to scan
The license and the limit, space and bound,
Allowed to Truth made visible in Man.
And, like that youth ye praise so, all I saw,
Over the canvas could my hand have flung,
Each face obedient to its passion's law,

Each passion clear proclaimed without a tongue;
Whether Hope rose at once in all the blood,
A-tiptoe for the blessing of embrace,

Or Rapture drooped the eyes, as when her brood
Pull down the nesting dove's heart to its place,
Or Confidence lit swift the forehead up,

And locked the mouth fast, like a castle braved,—

O Human faces, hath it spilt my cup?

What did ye give me that I have not saved?
Nor will I say I have not dreamed (how well !)
Of going-I, in each new picture,-forth,
As, making new hearts beat and bosoms swell,
To Pope or Kaiser, East, West, South, or North,
Bound for the calmly satisfied great State,

Or glad aspiring little burgh, it went,
Flowers cast upon the car which bore the freight,
Through old streets named afresh from its event,

Till it reached home, where learned Age should greet
My face, and Youth, the star not yet distinct
Above his hair, lie learning at my feet !—

Oh, thus to live, I and my picture, linked
With love about, and praise, till life should end,
And then not go to Heaven, but linger here,
Here on my earth, earth's every man my friend,-
The thought grew frightful, 'twas so wildly dear!
But a voice changed it! Glimpses of such sights
Have scared me, like the revels thro' a door
Of some strange House of Idols at its rites;

This world seemed not the world it was before!
Mixed with my loving trusting ones there trooped
Who summoned those cold faces that begun
To press on me and judge me ? Tho' I stooped
Shrinking, as from the soldiery a nun,
They drew me forth, and spite of me. . enough!
These buy and sell our pictures, take and give,
Count them for garniture and household-stuff,
And where they live our pictures needs must live,
And see their faces, listen to their prate,

Partakers of their daily pettiness,

Discussed of,-"This I love, or this I hate,

"This likes me more, and this affects me less!"
Wherefore I chose my portion. If at whiles
My heart sinks, as monotonous I paint
These endless cloisters and eternal aisles

With the same series, Virgin, Babe, and Saint,
With the same cold, calm, beautiful regard,
At least no merchant traffics in my heart;

The sanctuary's gloom at least shall ward

Vain tongues from where my pictures stand apart;
Only prayer breaks the silence of the shrine
While, blackening in the daily candle-smoke,
They moulder on the damp wall's travertine,
'Mid echoes the light footstep never woke.
So die, my pictures; surely, gently die!

Oh, youth, men praise so,--holds their praise its worth? Blown harshly, keeps the trump its golden cry?

Tastes sweet the water with such specks of carth?

455

THE ITALIAN IN ENGLAND.

THAT second time they hunted me
From hill to plain, from shore to sea,
And Austria, hounding far and wide
Her blood-hounds thro' the country-side,
Breathed hot and instant on my trace,—
I made six days a hiding-place

Of that dry green old aqueduct

Where I and Charles, when boys, have plucked
The fire-flies from the roof above,

Bright creeping thro' the moss they love.
-How long it seems since Charles was lost!
Six days the soldiers crossed and crossed
The country in my very sight;

And when that peril ceased at night,
The sky broke out in red dismay
With signal-fires; well, there I lay
Close covered o'er in my recess,
Up to the neck in ferns and cress,
Thinking on Metternich our friend,
And Charles's miserable end,
And much beside, two days; the third,
Hunger o'ercame me when I heard
The peasants from the village go
To work among the maize; you know,
With us, in Lombardy, they bring
Provisions packed on mules, a string
With little bells that cheer their task,
And casks, and boughs on every cask
To keep the sun's heat from the wine;
These I let pass in jingling line,
And, close on them, dear noisy crew,
The peasants from the village too;
For at the very rear would troop
Their wives and sisters in a group
To help, I knew; when these had passed,
I threw my glove to strike the last,
Taking the chance she did not start,
Much less cry out, but stooped apart
One instant, rapidly glanced round,
And saw me beckon from the ground:

A wild bush grows and hides my crypt,
She picked my glove up while she stripped
A branch off, then rejoined the rest
With that; my glove lay in her breast:
Then I drew breath: they disappeared:
It was for Italy I feared.

An hour, and she returned alone
Exactly where my glove was thrown.
Meanwhile came many thoughts; on me
Rested the hopes of Italy;

I had devised a certain tale

Which, when 'twas told her, could not fail
Persuade a peasant of its truth;

I meant to call a freak of youth
This hiding, and give hopes of pay,
And no temptation to betray.

But when I saw that woman's face,
Its calm simplicity of grace,

Our Italy's own attitude

In which she walked thus far, and stood,
Planting each naked foot so firm,

To crush the snake and spare the worm
At first sight of her eyes, I said,

"I am that man upon whose head

66

They fix the price, because I hate "The Austrians over us: the State "Will give you gold-oh, gold so much, "If you betray me to their clutch! "And be your death, for aught I know, "If once they find you saved their foe. “Now, you must bring me food and drink, "And also paper, pen, and ink, "And carry safe what I shall write "To Padua, which you 'll reach at night "Before the Duomo shuts; go in, "And wait till Tenebræ begin; "Walk to the Third Confessional, "Between the pillar and the wall,

"And kneeling whisper whence comes peace?

66

Say it a second time; then cease;

"And if the voice inside returns,

"From Christ and Freedom: what concerns

"The cause of Peace?-for answer, slip

66

My letter where you placed your lip;

"Then come back happy we have done "Our mother service-I, the son,

66

As you

the daughter of our land!”

Three mornings more, she took her stand In the same place, with the same eyes: I was no surer of sun-rise

Than of her coming: we conferred
Of her own prospects, and I heard
She had a lover-stout and tall,
She said then let her eyelids fall,
"He could do much "-as if some doubt
Entered her heart,-then, passing out,
"She could not speak for others who
"Had other thoughts; herself she knew:"
And so she brought me drink and food.
After four days, the scouts pursued
Another path: at last arrived

The help my Paduan friends contrived
To furnish me: she brought the news:
For the first time I could not choose
But kiss her hand and lay my own
Upon her head-" This faith was shown
"To Italy, our mother;-she
"Uses my hand and blesses thee!
She followed down to the sea-shore;
I left and never saw her more.

How very long since I have thought Concerning-much less wished for-aught Beside the good of Italy,

For which I live and mean to die!

I never was in love; and since

Charles proved false, nothing could convince My inmost heart I had a friend;

However, if I pleased to spend

Real wishes on myself-say, Three

I know at least what one should be;

I would grasp Metternich until

I felt his red wet throat distil

In blood thro' these two hands: and next,
-Nor much for that am I perplexed-

Charles, perjured traitor, for his part,
Should die slow of a broken heart

Under his new employers: last

-Ah, there, what should I wish? For fast

Do I grow old and out of strength.

If I resolved to seek at length

My father's house again, how scared
They all would look, and unprepared!
My brothers live in Austria's pay
-Disowned me long ago, men say;