A LEGEND OF 1516.
WHAT time o'er gory lands and threatening seas
Fair fortune, wearied, fled the Genoese--
What time from many a realm the waters woo
In the warm south. "Who now shall rule Corfu?"
Rose with the eager passion and fierce greed
Of those who preyed on every empire's need,--
There fell upon that isle's disheartened brave
A wild despair, such as in one dark grave
Might well have whelmed the prostrate nation's pride,
Her honor, strength, traditions--all beside
Which crowns a race with sovereignty. Sublime
Above the reckless purpose of his time
Their Patriarch stood, and such wise words he spake
The basest souls are thrilled, the feeblest wake
To some high aim, some passion grand and free,
Some cordial grace of magnanimity:
By such unwonted power they yield their all
To him that came, as if at Godhead's call,
To save the state, whose stricken pillars reel.
How works the Patriarch for his people's weal?
Calmly he bids them launch their stanchest keel--
A gorgeous galley: on her decks they raise
Great golden altars, girt by lights that blaze
Divinely, and by music's mystic rain,
Blent of soft spells, half sweetness and half pain,
Fallen from out the highest heaven of song.
And there, to purify all souls of wrong
And latent sin, he calls from far and near
Nobles and priests and people. Every where
The paths are full, which, sloping steeply down
From the green pasture and the wallèd town,
Lead oceanward, where, anchored near the quay,
That sacred galley heaved along the sea--
Her captain no rude mariner, with soul
Tough as the cordage his brown hands control,
But the gray Patriarch, lifting eyes of prayer,
While o'er the reverent thousands, calm in air,
The sacred host shone like an awful star.
"Children!" the Patriarch cried, "If strong ye are
To trust in heaven--albeit heaven's message sent
This day through me, seem strange, and strangely blent
With chance-fed issues--swear, whate'er betide,
When once our unmoored bark doth fleetly glide
O'er the blue spaces of the midland sea--
What flag soe'er first greets our eager view,
Our own to veil, and humbly yield thereto
The faith and sovereign claims of fair Corfu."
They vowed a vow methinks ne'er vowed before,
The while their galley, strangely laden, bore
Down the south wind, which freshly blew from shore.
Past Vido and San Salvador they sped,
Past stormy heights and capes whose rock-strewn head
Battled the surges; still no ship they met,
Till, sailing far beyond the rush and fret
Of shifting sand-locked bars, at last they gain
The open and illimitable main.
There in one line two gallant vessels rode;
From this the lurid Crescent banner glowed,
From that the rampant Lion of St. Mark's!
Much, much they wondered when athwart them drew,
With glittering decks, the galley from Corfu,
Lighted by tapers tall of myriad dyes,
And echoing chants of holy litanies.
Soon unto both the self-same message came;
For loud o'er antique hymn and altar flame
Thrilled the chief's voice, "Hearken, ye rival powers!
Whichever first may touch our armèd towers
Thenceforth shall be the lords of fair Corfu!"
Changed was the wind, and landward now it blew;
Smiting the waves to foam-flakes wild and white.
All sails were braced, the rowers rowed with might,
But soon the island men turned pale to see
The Turk's prow surging vanward steadily,
Till five full lengths ahead, careering fast,
With flaunting flag and backward-swooping mast,
And scores of laboring rowers bent as one
Toward oars which made cool lightnings in the sun,
The Paynim craft--unless some marvellous thing
Should hap to crush her crew or clip her wing--
Seemed sure as that black Fate which urged her on
Victor to prove, and that proud island race
To load with sickening burdens of disgrace!
And now on crowded decks and crowded shore
Naught but the freshening sea wind's hollow roar
Was heard, with flap of rope and clang of sail,
Veering a point to catch the changing gale,
Or furious lashes of the buffeting oar!
Just then the tall Venetian strangely changed
Her steadfast course, with open portholes ranged
'Gainst the far town. Across the sea-waste came,
First, a sharp flash and lurid cloud of flame,
Then the dull boom of the on-speeding ball,
Followed by sounds which to the islesmen seem
Sweet as the wakening from some nightmare dream--
The sounds of splintered tower and crashing wall!
Then rose a shrill cry to the shivering heaven--
"Thus, thus to us your island realm is given!"
Burst as one voice from out the conquering crew:
"Thus Venice claims the lordship of Corfu!"
