BYT, BUCHANAN READ.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CHRISTINE. 
 
 Supposed to "be related by a young sculptor on the 
 hill-side between. Florence and Fiesole',
 
 CHRISTINE. 
 
 BY 
 
 T. BUCHANAN READ, 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 FROM DESIGNS BY FREDERICK DIELMAN. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
 LONDON: 16 SOUTHAMPTON ST., STRAND. 
 1883.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 
 1882, 
 BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT & Co. 
 
 LIPPI NCOTT'S 
 PR us s.
 
 OME, my friend, 
 I and in the silence 
 and the shadow wrapt apart, 
 I will loose the golden 
 claspings of this sacred 
 
 r ! 
 
 tomb the heart. 
 
 901533
 
 By the bole of yonder cedar, under branches 
 
 spread like eaves, 
 We will sit where wavering sunshine weaves 
 
 romance among the leaves. 
 
 There by gentle airs of story shall our dreamy 
 
 minds be swayed, 
 And our spirits hang vibrating like the sunshine 
 
 with the shade. 
 
 Thou shalt sit, and leaning o'er me, calmly look 
 
 into my heart, 
 Look as Fiesole above us looketh on Val d'Arno's 
 
 mart :
 
 Shalt behold how 
 
 Love's fair river 
 
 down the golden city goes, f^p 
 As the silent stream of Arno through the streets 
 
 of Florence flows.
 
 I was standing o'er the marble, in the twilight 
 
 falling gray, 
 All my hopes and all my courage waning from 
 
 me like the day: 
 
 There I leaned across the statue, heaving many 
 
 a sigh and groan, 
 For I deemed the world as heartless, aye, as 
 
 heartless as the stone ! 
 
 Nay, I wellnigh thought the marble was a portion 
 
 of my pain, 
 For it seemed a frozen sorrow just without my 
 
 burning: brain.
 
 Then a cold and deathlike stupor slowly crept 
 
 along my frame, 
 While my life seemed passing outward, like a 
 
 pale reluctant flame. 
 
 And my weary soul went from me, and it walked 
 the world alone, 
 
 O'er a wide and brazen 
 desert, in a hot and 
 brazen zone ;
 
 There it walked and trailed its pinions, slowly 
 
 trailed them in the sands, 
 With its hopeless eyes fixed blindly, with its 
 
 hopeless folded hands. 
 
 And there came no morn, no evening with its 
 
 gentle stars and moon, 
 But the sun amid the heavens made a broad 
 
 unbroken noon. 
 
 And anon far reaching westward, with its weight 
 
 of burning air, 
 Lay an old and desolate ocean with a dead and 
 
 glassy stare.
 
 There my spirit wandered gazing, for the goal 
 
 no time might reach, 
 "With its weary feet unsandalled on the hard and 
 
 heated beach. 
 
 This it is to feel uncared for, like a useless 
 
 wayside stone, 
 This it is to walk in spirit through the desolate 
 
 world alone !
 
 Still I leaned across the marble, and a hand was 
 
 on my arm, 
 And my soul came back unto me as 'twere 
 
 summoned by a charm : 
 
 While a voice in gentlest whisper, breathed my 
 
 name into my ear, 
 " Ah, Andrea, why this silence, why this shadow 
 
 and this tear? : ' 
 
 Then I felt that I had wronged her, though I 
 
 knew it not before; 
 I had feared that she would scorn me if I told 
 
 the love I bore.
 
 I had seen her, spoken to her, only twice or 
 
 thrice perchance ; 
 And her mien was fine and stately, and all heaven 
 
 was in her glance. 
 
 She had praised my humble labors, the conception 
 
 and the art, 
 She had said a thing of beauty nestled ever to 
 
 her heart. 
 
 And I thought one pleasant morning when our 
 
 eyes together met, 
 That her orbs in dewy splendor dropt beneath 
 
 their fringe of jet.
 
 Though her form and 
 air were noble, yet a 
 
 simple dress she wore, 
 Like yon maiden by thef 
 I cypress, which the vines 
 weeping o'er. 
 
 came 
 
 unattended, 
 
 ler protection 
 ^ 
 
 in her mien 
 
 'rW! 
 /.., 
 
 And with somewhat 
 reluctance bade m 
 
 call her name Christine. 
 
 i - .Ml \.f -"t-^KTV
 
 Then that name became a music, and my dreams 
 
 went to the time, 
 And my brain all day made verses, and her 
 
 beauty tilled the rhyme. 
 
 Never dreamed I that she loved me, but I felt 
 
 it now the more ; 
 For her hand was laid upon me, and her eyes 
 
 were brimming o'er. 
 
 Oh, she looked into my spirit, as the stars look 
 
 in the stream, 
 Or as azure eyes of angels calm the trouble of 
 
 a dream.
 
 Then I told my love unto her, and her sighs 
 
 came deep and long 
 So yon peasant plays the measure, while the 
 
 other leads the song. 
 
 Then with tender words we parted, only as true 
 
 lovers can ; 
 I for that deep love she bore me was a braver, 
 
 better man. 
 
 I had lived unloved of any, only loving Art 
 
 before ; 
 Now I thought all things did love me, and I 
 
 loved all things the more.
 
 I had lived accursed of Fortune, lived in penury 
 
 worse than pain ; 
 But, when all the heaven was blackest, down it 
 
 showered in golden rain. 
 
 1 was summoned to the palace, to the presence 
 
 of the Duke, 
 Feeling hopes arise within me that no grandeur 
 
 could rebuke. 
 
 Down he kindly came to meet me, but I thought 
 
 the golden throne 
 Upon which my love had raised me, was not 
 
 lower than his own.
 
 Then he grasped my hand with fervor, and I 
 
 gave as warm return, 
 For I felt a noble nature in my very fingers 
 
 burn. 
 
 And I would not bow below him, if I could 
 
 not rise above, 
 For I felt within my bosom all the majesty of 
 
 Love. 
 
 " Sir," said he, " your fame has reached me, and 
 I fain would test your skill- - 
 
 Carve me something, Signior ; follow the free 
 fancy of your will.
 
 Carve me something 
 an Apollo, or a Dian 
 
 with her hounds : 
 
 Or Adonis, dying. 
 
 watching the young 
 lite flow from 
 his wounds;
 
 Or a dreamy-lidded Psyche, with her Cupid on 
 
 her knee ; 
 Or a flying fretted Daphne, taking refuge in the 
 
 tree. 
 
 But I will not dictate, Signior; I can trust your 
 
 taste and skill 
 In the ancient armored chamber you may carve 
 
 me what you will." 
 
 Then I thanked him as he left me and I walked 
 
 the armored hall 
 Even I, so late neglected, walked within the 
 
 palace wall.
 
 There were many suits of armor, some with 
 
 battered breasts and casques ; 
 And I thought the ancestral phantoms smiled 
 
 upon me from their masks. 
 
 And my footsteps were elastic with an energy 
 
 divine 
 Never in those breasts of iron beat a heart as 
 
 proud as mine ! 
 
 There for days I walked the chamber with a 
 
 spirit all inflamed, 
 And I thought on all the subjects which the 
 
 generous Duke had named
 
 Thought of those, and thought of others, slowly 
 
 thought them o'er and o'er, 
 Till my stormy brain went throbbing like the 
 
 surf along the shore. 
 
 \ 
 
 In despair I left the palace, sought my humble 
 
 room again, 
 And my gentle Christine met me, and she smiled 
 
 away my pain. 
 
 " Courage !" said she, and my courage leapt 
 
 within me as she spake, 
 And my soul was sworn to trial and to triumph 
 
 for her sake.
 
 Who shall say that love is idle, or a weight 
 
 upon the mind ? 
 Friend! the soul that dares to scorn it, hath in 
 
 idle dust reclined. 
 
 I returned, and in the chamber piled the shape 
 less Adam-earth ; 
 
 Piled it carelessly, not knowing to what form 
 it might give birth. 
 
 There I leaned, and dreamed, above it, till the 
 
 day went down the west, 
 And the darkness came unto me like an old 
 
 familiar guest.
 
 But I started, for a rustle swept athwart the 
 
 solemn gloom ! 
 And with, light, like morn's horizon, gleamed 
 
 the far end of the room ! 
 
 Then a heavy sea of curtain, in a tempest rolled 
 
 away ! 
 Blessed Virgin ! how I trembled ! but it was not 
 
 with dismay. 
 
 And my eyes grew large and larger, as I looked 
 
 with lips apart ; 
 And my senses drank in beauty, till it drowned 
 
 my happy heart.
 
 There it stood, a living statue ! with its loosened 
 
 locks of brown- 
 In an attitude angelic, with the folded hands 
 
 dropt down. 
 
 But I could not see the features, for a veil was 
 
 hanging there, 
 Yet so thin, that o'er the forehead I could trace 
 
 the shadowy hair. 
 
 Then the veil hecame a trouble, and I wished 
 
 that it were gone, 
 And I spake, 't was but a whisper, " Let thy 
 
 features on me dawn !"
 
 And the heavy sea of drapery stormed again 
 
 across my sight, 
 Leaving me appalled with wonder, breathless in 
 
 the sudden night. 
 
 But for days, where'er T turned me, still that 
 
 blessed form was there, 
 As one looketh to the sunlight, then beholds it 
 
 everywhere. 
 
 And for days and days I labored, with a soul 
 
 in courage mailed ; 
 And I wrought the nameless statue ; but, alas ! 
 
 the face was veiled.
 
 1 had tried all 
 forms of feature 
 every face of 
 classic art 
 Still the veil was 
 there I felt it 
 in my brain, and 
 in my heart ! 
 
 <^ 
 Sorrowing, ^ 
 
 I left the 
 
 palace, and again i met Christine, 
 And she trembled as I told her of the vision 
 I had seen.
 
 And she sighed, " Ah, dear Andrea," while she 
 
 clung unto my breast, 
 " What if this should prove a phantom, some 
 
 thing fearful and unblest 
 
 Something which shall pass between us ?" and 
 
 she clasped me with her arm; 
 "Nay," I answered, "love, I'll test it with a 
 
 most angelic charm. 
 
 Let me gaze upon thy features, love, and fear 
 
 not for the rest; 
 They shall exorcise the spirit if it be a thing 
 
 unblest!"
 
 Then I hurried to the statue, where so often I 
 
 had failed, 
 And I made the face of Christine, and it stood 
 
 no longer veiled ! 
 
 With a flush upon my forehead, then I called 
 
 the Duke he came, 
 And in rustling silks beside him walked his tall 
 
 and stately dame; 
 
 And they looked upon the statue then on me 
 
 with stern surprise ; 
 Then they looked upon each other with a wonder 
 
 in their eyes !
 
 "What is this?" spake out the Duchess, with 
 
 her gaze fixed on the Duke ; 
 "What is this?" and me he questioned in a 
 
 tone of sharp rebuke. 
 
 Like a miserable echo, I the question asked 
 again 
 
 And he said, " It is our daughter ! your presump 
 tion for your pain !" 
 
 But asudden from the curtain, in her jewelled 
 
 dress complete, 
 Swept a maiden in her beauty, and she dropped 
 
 before his feet
 
 And she cried, " O ! father mother, cast aside 
 
 that frowning mien ; 
 And forgive my own Andrea, and forgive your 
 
 child Christine ! 
 
 O ! forgive us : for, believe me, all the fault was 
 
 mine alone !" 
 And they granted her petition, and they blessed 
 
 us as their own.
 
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