| |
| O, SWEET it was, when, from that bleak abode | |
| Where avalanches grind the pines to dust, | |
| And crouching glaciers down the hollows thrust | |
| Their glittering claws, I took the sunward road, | |
| Making my guide the torrent, that before | 5 |
| My steps ran shouting, giddy with its joy, | |
| And tossed its white hands like a gamesome boy, | |
| And sprayed its rainbow frolics o’er and o’er! | |
| |
| Full-orbed, in rosy dusk, the perfect moon | |
| That evening shone: the torrent’s noise, afar, | 10 |
| No longer menaced, but with mellow tune | |
| Sang to the twinkle of a silver star, | |
| Above the opening valley. “Italy!” | |
| The moon, the star, the torrent, said to me,— | |
| “Sleep thou in peace, the morning will unbar | 15 |
| These Alpine gates, and give thy world to thee!” | |
| |
| And morning did unfold the jutting capes | |
| Of chestnut-wooded hills, that held embayed | |
| Warm coves of fruit, the pine’s Æolian shade, | |
| Or pillared bowers, blue with suspended grapes;— | 20 |
| A land whose forms some livelier grace betrayed; | |
| Where motion sang and cheerful color laughed, | |
| And only gloomed, amid the dancing shapes | |
| Of vine and bough, the pointed cypress-shaft! | |
| |
| On,—on, through broadening vale and brightening sun | 25 |
| I walked, and hoary in their old repose | |
| The olives twinkled: many a terrace rose, | |
| With marbles crowned and jasmine overrun, | |
| And orchards where the ivory silkworm spun. | |
| On leafy palms outspread, its pulpy fruit | 30 |
| The fig-tree held; and last, the charm to close, | |
| A dark-eyed shepherd piped a reedy flute. | |
| |
| My heart beat loud: I walked as in a dream | |
| Where simplest actions, touched with marvel, seem | |
| Enchanted yet familiar: for I knew | 35 |
| The orchards, terraces, and breathing flowers, | |
| The tree from Adam’s garden, and the blue | |
| Sweet sky behind the light aerial towers; | |
| And that young faun that piped, had piped before,— | |
| I knew my home: the exile now was o’er! | 40 |
| |
| And when the third rich day declined his lids, | |
| I floated where the emerald waters fold | |
| Gem-gardens, fairy island-pyramids, | |
| Whereon the orange hangs his globes of gold,— | |
| Which aloes crown with white, colossal plume, | 45 |
| Above the beds where lavish Nature bids | |
| Her sylphs of odor endless revel hold, | |
| Her zones of flowers in balmy congress bloom! | |
| |
| I hailed them all, and hailed beyond, the plain; | |
| The palace-fronts, on distant hills uplift, | 50 |
| White as the morning star; the streams that drift | |
| In sandy channels to the Adrian main: | |
| Till one still eve, with duplicated stain | |
| Of crimson sky and wave, disclosed to me | |
| The domes of Venice, anchored on the sea, | 55 |
| Far off,—an airy city of the brain! | |
| |
| Forth from the shores of Earth we seemed to float, | |
| Drawn by that vision,—hardly felt the breeze | |
| That left one glassy ripple from the boat | |
| To break the smoothness of the silken seas; | 60 |
| And far and near, as from the lucent air, | |
| Came vesper chimes and wave-born melodies. | |
| So might one die, if Death his soul could bear | |
| So gently, heaven before him float so fair! | |
| |
