THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 Stuart grterne. 
 
 ANGELO. A Poem. i8mo, gilt top, $1,00. 
 GIORGIO, AND OTHER POEMS. i8mo, 
 
 gilt top, $1.00. 
 BEYOND THE SHADOW, AND OTHER 
 
 POEMS. i8mo, gilt top, ji.oo. 
 PIERO DA CASTlGLIONE. i8mo, gilt top, 
 
 $i.co. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK.
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE 
 
 STUART STERNE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "ANGELO," "GIORGIO AND OTHER POEMS, 
 "BEYOND THE SHADOW AND OTHER POEMS" 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
 
 Copyright, 1890, 
 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass. , U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
 
 PS 
 
 (10$ 
 
 f 
 
 To 
 VICTOR G. BLOEDE, 
 
 THE DEAR ONLY BROTHER, COUNSELOR, AND FRIEND, 
 
 WHOSE TRUE HEART AND STRONG ARM 
 HAVE NEVER BEEN FOUND WANTING, IN SUNSHINE OR IN SHADE, 
 
 dJjtg flabor of iLobe 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY 
 S. S. 
 
 904517
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 " NAY, are they true, the strange, dark words 
 
 writ here ? 
 * To love, by heaven and earth, means soon or 
 
 late 
 
 To smart and suffer, it is sure as death.' 
 To smart and suffer, and must love be such, 
 Needs some time bring us agony and pain, 
 If it be perfect love ? Yet ours has brought 
 But joy and untold happiness to us, 
 My Piero and myself. Ah, strange ! " 
 
 And with 
 
 A puzzled shadow on the fair, white brow, 
 Maria raised her head, till now bent down 
 All eagerly above the ponderous tome 
 Held open on her knee, and let her eyes, 
 Questioning and as in search of answer, roam 
 About the wide apartment, still and empty 
 Save for herself, and even at noon half dim
 
 6 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 With all its dusky splendor of carved woods 
 And wondrous gilded art and ornament, 
 Blent in a gorgeous whole, where, rich on walls 
 And vaulted ceiling, some old master-hand 
 Had conjured forth amid blue, stainless skies 
 Young cherubs, linked by garlands of gay flowers 
 In never-ending dance, and where the light 
 From a stained window high above her head 
 Broke as through precious gems of many hues, 
 And slowly with the morning sun moved on 
 Across the marble floor. 
 
 " Ay, strange, most strange," 
 She softly said again. " How can it be ? 
 For ours methinks in truth is perfect love, 
 Sweet Heaven ! is not my whole soul bound in 
 
 him, 
 
 And his in mine ? Yet, let me see once more." 
 And, drawing close the cushion for her feet, 
 She let the slender finger trace again 
 The long black lines adown the yellowed page, 
 Where, like a gleam from out a ruby's heart, 
 Now fell a fleck of crimson, lighting up 
 The words she read, slow and attentively, 
 As if she pondered each : 
 
 "Soul, art thou prepared to take upon thyself the 
 awful burden of Love for Love's sake alone, for
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 7 
 
 thou needst hope for no other reward, to know 
 hunger and thirst without end, to be pricked with 
 sharp thorn, and pierced by a sword of fire? Then 
 art thou ready for Heaven, for thou shalt pass through 
 Purgatory. They were a fair man and woman, who 
 met half way upon the path of life. And a voice 
 from heaven said : ' Ye shall be friends, but your 
 portion shall not be equal. Thou, woman, shalt love 
 and suffer most, shalt give and give, ten times and 
 thousandfold, and receive but scant measure back 
 from him. Wilt thou wear such a chaplet as that, 
 set with pricking thorn ? ' A shadow came upon the 
 woman's face, but she said, ' I will.' And the voice 
 went on: 'In days of cloudless sunshine, he will 
 share the light with thee, knowing nought of thy 
 secret sorrows. But when grief touches him, thou 
 shalt ever comfort, find one last drop of joy, one last 
 flower of life, for him, with bleeding feet kneel 
 down to bind up his bruises, lead him from dark- 
 ness out to God. And he shall take and take, and 
 never count the cost. Thinkest thou to bear the 
 burden of such a cross as that?' The light had 
 died out of the woman's eyes, but she said again, 
 * I will.' And the voice went on : * And in the end 
 he will turn from thee to a fairer face, and forget 
 thee. Thou shalt walk on in thy desolate path alone, 
 till God calls thee home to Him. Canst thou drain 
 such a sharp cup of agony and death as that ? Be- 
 think thee well, it means to be transfixed as with
 
 8. PIERO DA CASTIGL1ONE 
 
 a sword of fire.' And the woman sank upon her 
 knees, and from her white lips burst the words, * I will, 
 for Love's sake, my God, I will.'" 
 
 " Oh, she was brave 
 Past my belief ! " Maria cried again : 
 " Great as the Blessed Saints in Holy Story ! 
 And yet, and yet, I do not understand, 
 Would I might find and ask some wise, old head 
 To give me answer! Uncle? Ah, no, no, 
 Poor, dear, old man, what should he know of 
 
 this ! 
 
 Has he not told me oft, he 'd done with love 
 Full twenty years and over ? Twenty years, 
 That was ere I was born, a long, long time! 
 Have done with love, ah, that methinks must 
 
 mean 
 
 With life itself ! And Lisa will not know, 
 Lisa, who is a happy wife and mother, 
 No gall e'er mingled with her cup of love. 
 But Piero, ah, my Piero, he must help me ! 
 He, too, is young like Lisa and myself, 
 But wise and grave beyond his years, I Ve heard 
 My uncle say, ay, and of late, methinks, 
 Oft, oft too grave, and well-nigh sad. Ah me, 
 All things are strange sometimes ! " And while 
 
 her head
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 9 
 
 Sank lower, and the sweet young bosom swelled 
 An instant with a half-unconscious sigh, 
 She fell again to silent meditation 
 And self-communing. 
 
 Nor a little while 
 
 Perceived that in the doorway leading out 
 Into the sunny, pillared hall beyond, 
 Stood he she last had named, and gazed at her 
 With deep, enraptured eyes, eyes that had fed 
 Upon her face and form a thousand times, 
 Yet never felt more blest in dearest joy 
 Than at this moment, when the beauteous image 
 Stood out relieved from the dark ground beyond, 
 Like some immortal picture. 
 
 She had pushed 
 
 The cushion far away, so but the tip 
 Of one small foot now rested lightly there, 
 And clasped her hands behind her head, and 
 
 thus 
 
 Lay back well-nigh full length upon the couch, 
 Her robe of dark blue silk, whose delicate folds 
 Clung close, as with a loving touch, revealing 
 The tender, supple graces of a form 
 Surpassing fair, a form wherein, for all 
 The softest, richest beauty of each curve, 
 Yet blent with every noble line so much
 
 IO PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Of modest, virgin purity and pride, 
 
 That her most perfect, gracious, gentle love, 
 
 Yielding its wealth at but a glance from him, 
 
 Seemed ever as a new, nigh, strange delight, 
 
 A marvel scarcely understood, whereof 
 
 His soul could never drink its fill, to Piero, 
 
 Betrothed to her a year, and now, ere long, 
 
 To wed her, her, Maria ! Ah, and how 
 
 Had God thought him, of all who sought her 
 
 heart, 
 
 Worthy to win it, pluck and wear forever 
 Upon his happy breast this fairest flower 
 That ever blossomed on the seven gray Hills 
 Bearing the ancient City ! Countless times 
 The humble thought had flashed upon his soul, 
 As now, when thus he stayed with bated breath 
 Still gazing, marked the snowy throat encircled 
 By one slim row of dimly gleaming pearl, 
 How the fair fingers lay half buried 'neath 
 The wealth of wavy hair, bright, golden brown, 
 Its masses coiled and bound, yet scarce sub- 
 dued, 
 
 Noted the brooding thought upon the brow 
 Half childlike still in its white purity, 
 And how the rich, sweet lips were set, in all 
 Unconscious gravity. Her downcast eyes
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. II 
 
 Were fixed upon the ground, but well he knew 
 What light could kindle in their liquid depths, 
 Eyes like her hair, a rare and wondrous tint 
 Of golden brown. Piero had sometimes said, 
 "When the Great Master fashioned thee, He 
 
 loved 
 
 That hue so well himself, He used his all, 
 Nor ever could that shade be found again ; 
 So thou wert left sole woman in the world 
 With living sunshine in her hair and eyes." 
 And suddenly thirsting for the look of joy, 
 That with his coming ever- broke from them, 
 He moved to go to her. 
 
 She turned and saw him, 
 
 And, with a sweet, faint flush on cheek and brow, 
 Sprang up and tossed the gray, old book aside, 
 And flew into his arms, meeting half way 
 The eager, passionate lips that sought her own ; 
 But then looked up and cried : "Ah, Piero mine, 
 I am so glad thou 'rt come, for thou must 
 
 help me 
 Read a dark riddle ! " 
 
 " Ah, a riddle ! Pray 
 
 What can it be that makes my cheery lark 
 So grave to-day ? I stood unseen by her 
 And watched her for a while," he said, half 
 
 smiling,
 
 12 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And gazing down into her upturned face 
 With infinite tenderness. 
 
 "Come and sit here, 
 And I will tell thee." 
 
 So she drew him on, 
 
 Back to the couch and her old place, herself 
 Perching upon the cushion at his feet, 
 Took up again the open book and bid him, 
 " Now listen, Piero mine, with all thy ears ! " 
 And thus, one hand that he had caught and 
 
 held, 
 
 Close clasped in his, the other on the page, 
 She read to him, in low, melodious voice 
 That sometimes faltered, the same sad, old tale 
 Conned o'er before alone, not looking up 
 Until, the bitter ending reached, she paused, 
 And eyes grown dark with unshed tears, at last 
 Were slowly lifted to his face. 
 
 But Piero, 
 
 Unmindful of her bidding, had but watched 
 The fleeting lights and shadows on her brow, 
 Nor closely caught the meaning of the words ; 
 And when she asked, "Beseech thee, tell me 
 
 now, 
 
 Can love be such as this ? " made answer : " Nay, 
 Give me the book, I fear I have not heard."
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 13 
 
 " Oh, Love, and wherefore not ? " she gently said, 
 Putting the tome into his hands. And then, 
 While he fell now to study of the page, 
 She, with one elbow resting on her knee, 
 The fair, bent head supported on her palm, 
 Sat watching him in turn, her Piero, hers, 
 In worshipful, deep silence. 
 
 Sweet Madonna, 
 
 Ah, how she loved him ! Words could never tell, 
 Though she might strive a thousand happy years ! 
 How handsome, yet how simple too, he looked, 
 To-day and ever! That fine velvet garb 
 Of dusky hue became him wondrous well, 
 Set off his stately height and well-knit limbs, 
 Where strength and grace were blent, a noble- 
 man, 
 
 Ay, it might be, a very king disguised, 
 All having eyes to see had surely said, 
 What though they found him on the common 
 
 road, 
 
 In beggar's raiment. For unconsciously 
 All his whole presence spoke the princely blood 
 Of the proud house that traced its lineage back 
 In the dim past for many centuries. 
 One of his ancestors, he oft had told her. 
 Speaking of him with deepest reverence,
 
 14 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Fired by the holy ardor of his time, 
 
 Had tacked the scarlet cross upon his shoulder, 
 
 And leaving wife and children, with the cry, 
 
 " God wills, God wills it ! " sallied forth among 
 
 The first Crusaders, who set out to free 
 
 The Holy Sepulchre. Ah, yes, she thought, 
 
 A crown had set most fair on those dark locks, 
 
 Through which she sometimes, in a playful hour, 
 
 Twined her glad fingers, surely he was born 
 
 To reign o'er some great kingdom ! And in 
 
 truth, 
 
 Upon his face, for all its youth, and all 
 The glow of joy that but just now suffused it, 
 On the bronzed cheek and proudly curving lip, 
 The firm, broad brow, and deep, dark, steadfast 
 
 eye, 
 
 There lay a touch, not cold and hard, mayhap, 
 But stern and grave, a something giving sign 
 Of strange austerity within, the power 
 Of an indomitable, dauntless will, 
 Chiming but ill with tender years. 
 
 In but 
 
 Those years alone, he was not much her senior, 
 And yet Maria oft looked up to him 
 With something like a sense akin to awe 
 Mingling with all her love, as one who ranked
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 15 
 
 Far, far above herself, when, as he sat 
 Discoursing with her uncle, and his friends, 
 On many deep, mysterious themes, she heard 
 Sage words and subtlest thought and wisest 
 
 counsel 
 
 Fall from the lips whose modest eloquence 
 Compelled his stubborn elders to assent, 
 Well-nigh against their will. But yet for that 
 She loved him, mayhap, all the more, for oh, 
 Had she not found the secret to call forth 
 At any moment on those grave, young lips 
 The smile that first had touched and drawn her 
 
 heart, 
 
 The radiant, winsome smile, that, like a gleam 
 Of sunlight breaking from a sombre cloud, 
 Transformed his face with beauty all its own ? 
 Had she not seen, again and yet again, 
 That quiet eye whence sometimes for an instant 
 There leaped a strange, dark fire melt sud- 
 denly 
 
 To passionate tenderness at sight of her, 
 Poor, small, unworthy her? 
 
 And thus even now 
 
 Did he look up, half smiling and half grave, 
 Asking, " Pray, Love, what puzzles thee in 
 this?
 
 1 6 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 This was not love, not truest love, and he 
 
 Surely was but a poor and petty soul, 
 
 Bound up in self. Whence came this strange 
 
 old tome?" 
 
 " I found it there among those other books 
 My uncle long has treasured up," she answered, 
 Waving her hand. And then : " And so thou 
 
 sayst 
 This was not love, true love, not love like 
 
 ours; 
 
 Ah, Piero mine, I am so glad! For think, 
 Were it not strange and mournful past belief, 
 If faithful, truest love could break a heart, 
 As hers whose tale is here ah, poor, poor 
 
 soul 
 
 Broke at the last ! " And thoughtful, half aloud, 
 As speaking to herself, she said once more : 
 
 " ' Soul, art thou prepared to know hunger and thirst 
 without end, to be pricked with sharp thorn, and pierced 
 by a sword of flre ? ' " 
 
 "Nay," he repeated, 
 Confirming his past words, " that was not 
 
 love." 
 
 And, tossing in his turn the woful book 
 Down half impatiently, bent over her : 
 "But ah, Beloved, thou must surely know,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. \J 
 
 'Tis possible that there may some time come 
 
 Even to a deathless, deepest, truest love 
 
 Ay, soonest, it may be, of all, to such ! 
 
 A day of suffering and dark agony, 
 
 That God may bid two souls made one by 
 
 love 
 
 To part and say farewell, renounce forever 
 On earth, perchance, their sweetest hope and joy, 
 For love of Him, at some great duty's call, 
 Honor, or faith, or country. Ay, consider, 
 If our beloved land were up in arms 
 Against some foreign foe, must not her sons 
 Obey the summons, gladly offer up 
 Not blood and life alone, in her defense, 
 But love itself, a thousand times more dear? 
 Or think upon some sacred cause, like that 
 Of those two men of ancient times, thou 
 
 knowst ? 
 
 One whereof pledged himself to give his life 
 Even for his friend's, whose own was forfeited 
 If he did not return to set him free 
 Within the hour assigned." 
 
 She looked at him 
 Like one whose thoughts had been far off, and 
 
 scarce 
 Well followed all his words, but rousing now,
 
 1 8 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE 
 
 As from a waking dream, she answered, " Yes, 
 I Ve heard the tale, but half forgot again ; 
 Pray tell it over." 
 
 "Why, one would have slain 
 The tyrant that had long oppressed the land, 
 But failed, was taken and condemned to die, 
 But being wived, ay, and a father too, 
 Prayed three days' grace, till he might set his 
 
 house 
 
 In order for his children, while his friend 
 And he, 't is said, betrothed and soon to wed 
 Surrendered to the .tyrant, in his stead 
 Prepared to suffer death if he delayed." 
 And now he saw she hung upon his lips, 
 A deep light kindling in her eager eyes. 
 "Ah, yes," broke softly from her, as he paused; 
 "Yes, now do I remember all. But pray 
 Go on, go on ! " 
 
 "And but by one hair's breadth, 
 In truth had suffered thus. For his poor friend, 
 For all the breathless, hot despatch he made, 
 Spent and past hope, arrived but just in time 
 To stay the deadly sword, raised up to smite 
 The patient neck beneath. Out on the road 
 And fire and flood, a thousand stops unlocked 
 
 for,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 19 
 
 Had long delayed him ; and at home the wife, 
 Who clung about his neck with thousand tears, 
 Beseeching him to tarry past the hour, 
 Let his friend die, ere he thus widow her, 
 And make his children orphans, even as she, 
 The other's Love, had sought to hold him back 
 In her white arms, and with wild plaints and 
 
 kisses 
 
 Prayed him to let fierce justice take its course, 
 Nor slay himself and her, playing the fool 
 As hostage for his friend." 
 
 " How," asked Maria, 
 And, slowly rising, stood erect and tall, 
 The slender form dilating with some new, 
 Unconscious dignity, " how, both of them, 
 These women, bore such poor and petty souls 
 That they had naught but feeble plaints and 
 
 tears ? 
 Neither found power, what though her secret 
 
 heart 
 Might bleed and break, yet with brave lips to 
 
 say, 
 
 ' Beloved, go ! redeem thy pledge, perform 
 The sacred task whereto God summons thee ! 
 It may be that these clinging eyes and hands 
 Shall loose thee, yet my soul must hold forever
 
 20 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Thy deathless image dearer than before 
 
 For that immortal glory of thine own ! ' " 
 
 " Ah ! " Piero cried, and rising in his turn, 
 
 Something like wonder gleaming in his eyes, 
 
 Took into his one slender, yielding hand, 
 
 " Couldst thou do this, Love, bid me go ? 
 
 And is 
 
 The soul of my sweet, beauteous, tender bird 
 In truth cast in such high, heroic mould ? " 
 " Yes," she said gently, with a still, deep fire 
 That wholly wrapped her, in the far off-gaze, 
 And with divine simplicity accepting 
 The highest praise, like one who, having burst 
 In some supernal hour of sacred life 
 The bonds of self, can stand aloof and see, 
 And calmly judge itself, as not itself, 
 " Ah, Piefo, yes, methinks that I could give 
 Thy life and mine, for mine must go with 
 
 thine, 
 
 If thou wert called in some great, godly cause ! 
 Methinks that hearts knit by such love as ours 
 Must be made strong for any sacrifice; 
 Ay, in the very greatness of their love, 
 Find power to do God's bidding, part, if need 
 
 be, 
 For a brief space, while life on earth endures,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE 21 
 
 For naught that could in life or death betide 
 Could bring us real parting, now divide 
 What God himself in tender mercy joined, 
 Made one for aye ! " 
 
 " Maria ! " he cried out, 
 In faltering accents, shaken to the soul. 
 And then, as with a burst of strange, swift joy, 
 " Ah, God be thanked, nay, all is well, I mean, 
 That He has let me find and know thee thus ! " 
 And so seized both her hands, and covered them 
 With fervent kisses, and for one long instant 
 Held them close clasped against his heart. 
 
 But she, 
 
 Suddenly withdrawing them, twined clinging arms 
 About his neck, and laid her cheek to his, 
 With the low words, " O Piero, Piero mine ! " 
 While he in rapture strained her to his breast. 
 And when at last he suffered her to speak 
 Once more, " Ah, Piero, Piero ! Nay, I know 
 Of but one parting that could break my heart, 
 And slay my soul itself, if that could die, 
 If thou, grown cold, shouldst ever cease to love 
 me!" 
 
 " Beloved ! " he exclaimed again, half startled, 
 In passionate, yet beseeching protest ; " Nay,
 
 22 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 How sayest thou, what strange thoughts are 
 
 these ! unless 
 
 My own soul, lost, rejected, perish first, 
 Must it not cleave to thine forevermore ? 
 As all impossible " 
 
 But she broke in, 
 
 "Thou'st heard the story of that spirit sent 
 To Purgatory? No? Then I will tell thee." 
 
 And, gliding now from his reluctant arms, 
 Slipped back upon the cushion at his feet, 
 And with her hands clasped round her knees, 
 
 her eyes 
 
 Fixed for a time upon the ground, began : 
 "There was a poor, fair maid once, who had 
 
 sinned 
 
 In early youth, and dying been condemned 
 To thousand years of fire in Purgatory. 
 And while she tarried 'mid the scorching flames, 
 Saint Peter, standing at the gates of Heaven, 
 Heard how she ceaseless day and night cried 
 
 out, 
 
 In piteous tones, ' Andrea, O Andrea!' 
 And yet again, ' Andrea ! ' and at last, 
 Moved to compassion, went to her and asked, 
 1 Why dost thou ever call on that one name ? '
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 2$ 
 
 1 He was my Love on earth/ she said, ' and now, 
 
 Since I have left him, dwells alone, and spent 
 
 With bitter anguish. Could I see but once, 
 
 Once more, his face beloved, willingly, 
 
 In patient silence, would I then endure 
 
 The fiercest pangs of fire ! ' And good Saint 
 
 Peter 
 Bade her, * Depart, but haste thee back full 
 
 soon, 
 
 For the fulfillment of thy penalty ! ' 
 So the poor soul sped earthward to her Love, 
 But found him not alone and sore with grief, 
 But in loud company, with merry friends, 
 Filled to the lips with laughter, wine, and song, 
 Holding another woman in his arms. 
 And silently, without a moan or tear, 
 The soul crept slowly back, and only said, 
 ( Saint Peter, I am here.' But he for answer, 
 And setting half ajar the Gates of Heaven, 
 4 Nay, child, it is enough, thou art forgiven ! 
 In that one moment thou hast suffered more 
 Than in a thousand fiery years of Hell, 
 God bids thee enter here ! ' 
 
 " See, Piero mine," 
 Maria ended, and looked up at him 
 With eyes all brimming over; "I can feel
 
 24 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 That state of piercing anguish, which outweighed 
 A thousand years of Hell. Oh, she in truth 
 Was given to know the sword of fire, and drain 
 The cup of death, and such it were to me ! " 
 
 But Piero suddenly bent a knee and cried, 
 All his impassioned soul in voice and eye, 
 " My blessed Love ! My Lady of Sweet Mercy ! 
 Have I not told thee oft and oft, no woman 
 Even for a fleeting moment touched this heart, 
 That pride and beauty ever moved before 
 My heedless glance as but an empty show, 
 Till I first saw thee, looked upon thy face, 
 Then suddenly, as by a magic touch, 
 The stony portals of my heart flew wide, 
 And thou didst enter in, its lawful Queen, 
 To take possession of thy throne, and rule 
 Forever there, through life and death supreme ! 
 Art thou content, dost thou believe and trust 
 
 me, 
 My Saint, my God-sent Angel?" 
 
 A swift smile 
 
 Of deep, unutterable joy and radiance 
 Broke o'er the young face, all too grave till now, 
 And bending over him, where still he knelt, 
 She silently put quivering lips to his.
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 2$ 
 
 Then, while he rose and drew her up with him, 
 She hastily dashed the springing tears away, 
 Whispering upon his breast, "Ah, yes, I 
 
 know, 
 
 I am but foolish, like a wayward child ! 
 Forgive me, my Beloved. I have read 
 Too long, mayhap, in those old books, and they 
 Have made me sad ! " And then : " But come," 
 
 she cried, 
 
 In swiftly changing mood, as if her soul 
 Flashed suddenly from dark waters into sun- 
 light, 
 
 " Let us be happy now, as is our wont ! 
 And oh, my Piero, I well-nigh forgot, 
 I Ve something fair to show thee, wait an in- 
 stant, 
 And I will bring it ! " 
 
 And so sped away 
 
 Swift and light-footed, leaving him to gaze 
 On her retreating form. For many moments 
 He stood immovable, then starting turned 
 And laid one heavy hand, whose fingers trem- 
 bled, 
 
 Across his eyes. And when he drew it back 
 All the glad light had faded from his face, 
 Leaving it strangely ashen, wan, and old.
 
 26 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Then, slowly following, he passed back again 
 Into the sunlit hall, that opened out 
 Upon the pillared corridor, and further 
 Through many noble, stately rooms beyond, 
 And waited there Maria, who came back 
 Bearing in both her arms a great, white roll, 
 That she tossed down upon a chair, exclaiming, 
 In merry tones, " Ah, look now, Piero mine, 
 What uncle's good old friend, the Signor Carlo, 
 But just returned from his long journey East, 
 Has brought for me ! " 
 
 And swiftly opening out 
 The shining fabric, snowy fold on fold, 
 Spread out, for Piero's gaze and admiration, 
 A marvelous texture, in good truth, a woof 
 Finer than cobweb, richest silk, that gleamed 
 With dim, mysterious sheen, like molten pearl, 
 Shot here and there with single threads of gold, 
 That sent through light and shadow, in and out, 
 Pale darts of quivering fire. 
 
 " It is to be 
 
 My wedding gown," she said, with drooping lids, 
 Then, with a sweet, faint flush, glanced up at 
 
 him, 
 
 Half smiling and half grave, and added softly, 
 "And and I think, my Piero, thou hast said
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 2/ 
 
 That thou couldst wish that happiest of all days 
 Might come not further off than Easter time ! " 
 
 He bowed his head, as if in mute assent, 
 And she, intent upon her robe, marked not ^ 
 That he had answered her shy, loving glance 
 With but the strange, dim shadow of a smile, 
 Nor how the hot, swift blood rushed for an in- 
 stant 
 
 To the dark, altered brow, but asked again, 
 " Dear Love, is not this wondrous fair in truth ? 
 Ah, and I think it will become me well ! " 
 
 And, acting on a sudden, merry thought, 
 
 She drew and draped, with deft, most nimble 
 
 hands, 
 
 The soft, white folds about her throat and bosom, 
 And from the slender belt down to the floor, 
 Pinning them fast with a long, silver dart, 
 Plucked hastily from her hair. And then, once 
 
 more, 
 
 Artless, like some sweet, eager child, looked up, 
 And gayly said, " 'T will be like this, perchance, 
 And shall I please thee, Piero mine?" 
 
 " Beloved, 
 Dost thou not ever please me," he began,
 
 28 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 But paused and turned from her, and gazed in- 
 tently 
 
 Down the long corridor, where his quick ear 
 Had caught the sound of coming steps. " Me- 
 
 thinks 
 
 Here 's Lisa, ay, 't is she ! " he slowly said, 
 And so, with face averted from the vision 
 Too passing beauteous, and a deep-drawn sigh, 
 As of relief, watched her approaching. Lisa, 
 Child of the fair young nurse who once had 
 
 nourished, 
 
 With all a mother's tender love and care, 
 The orphaned babe Maria, and her own, 
 At the same faithful breast, the little ones, 
 Each without other comrade, sharing long 
 All joys and griefs, ripening to womanhood 
 Well-nigh like sisters, and beneath one roof, 
 Till Lisa, grown a tall, most comely lass, 
 Had wed young Bartolo, a noble fellow, 
 And her devoted lover from a boy, 
 But still felt free from out her humble home 
 To come and go as pleased her at the mansion, 
 To see her sweet Madonna. 
 
 She came now 
 
 Clad half in peasant garb, as was her wont, 
 A bright-red kerchief round the shapely throat,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 29 
 
 And many strangely fashioned golden pins 
 Wrought through the curly hair, that matched 
 
 most well 
 The clear, brown, ruddy cheek and sparkling 
 
 eye,-- 
 
 Came with light-tripping foot, but when she saw 
 The .two together, half drew back, exclaiming : 
 " I crave your pardon, but I did not know 
 The Signer Piero here ! " And then perceived 
 Maria's wondrous, white magnificence, 
 And, swift to guess its meaning, suddenly started 
 Forward again, close to Maria's side, 
 Striking her hands together in dismay, 
 And cried aloud : 
 
 " Madonna, nay, beseech you, 
 Away with that, at once ! Have you not heard 
 To wear your wedding-gown before the bride- 
 groom, 
 
 Even for an hour before the rightful time, 
 Is an ill omen, that portends, they say, 
 You '11 never don it on the day you hoped ? " 
 
 " Ah, we are not afraid, my Piero, are we ? " 
 Maria said, and strove to laugh, but finding 
 No happy answer in his face, the smile 
 Died on her lips. She, too,, grew grave again,
 
 3O riERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And then, as if in unacknowledged fear, 
 Began at once, hastily and helped by Lisa, 
 To take the arrow from her belt, unwind 
 The softly clinging folds from round her form, 
 Till she stood free, and Lisa gathered up 
 The precious fabric with much tenderness, 
 And smoothed and stroked and rolled it rever- 
 ently 
 Back to its former shape. 
 
 " Dear Love," said Piero, 
 And drew her to the window's deep recess, 
 " I must away now ! " 
 
 " Ah, so soon ? " she asked ; 
 " Wilt thou not stay and sup ? " 
 
 But he, unheeding, 
 
 And kindling with a sudden fire, went on : 
 " But I have news for thee, ah, think, Maria, 
 Within a week we '11 have that wondrous man 
 I 've told thee of, the Fra Girolamo, 
 Here in the city ! He will preach three days 
 At San Miniato, Convent of his Order, 
 That is to welcome him, its honored guest, 
 And mayhap in the field beyond, for thousands, 
 Past doubt, will flock to hear him, who from God 
 Bears power to stir the hearts and souls of men 
 As mortal tongue has never stirred them yet.
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 31 
 
 Ay, and thou, too, must come with me, Maria, 
 To drink a draft from that deep fount of life ! " 
 
 "Why, yes, my Piero, surely if thou wish 
 I will so ! " Yet the rosy lips were pursed 
 As if in half displeasure. " But I '11 tell thee, 
 I do not love this wpndrous man of thine ! 
 Nay, let me speak ! 'T is since thou didst of late 
 Go on thy journey North, and hear his voice, 
 That thou hast been so grave and silent, more 
 Than was thy wont of old, ay, and at times 
 So hopeless far away from love and me ! 
 Ah, surely, though I may not often speak, 
 I see it, feel it, here!" 
 
 " Yes, yes, mayhap 
 'T is as thou sayst, but God shall make all 
 
 well ! " 
 
 He hastily said, and bending kissed her brow 
 In half-paternal fashion, and then turned 
 And strode away without another word, 
 Maria gazing after him in wonder 
 Till he had vanished. 
 
 Ah, what could he mean ! 
 She thought with troubled brow. " Sometimes I 
 
 fear me 
 Some secret trouble weighs upon his soul,
 
 32 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE, 
 
 Some grief I cannot fathom ! Yet I know 
 He '11 some time tell me all, and I will bide 
 His own good time, as patient as I may." 
 Then whispered softly to herself, while now 
 A happy smile stole back upon her lips: 
 " Ay, and he loves me, loves me ! What may 
 
 fall 
 
 In life or death, his soul is mine forever. 
 That is enough, I could endure all else, 
 Bless him and guard, sweet Saints of Heaven ! " 
 
 And thus 
 
 Turned back at last to busy Lisa, asking : 
 "And hast thou brought thy little ones with 
 
 thee, 
 Tito and baby 'Detta?" 
 
 "Nay, not her, 
 
 Madonna mine, but Tito waits below." 
 " Ah, then, I pray thee, bring him up at once, 
 I long to see his merry eyes awhile, 
 And when I Ve done with him I '11 send him 
 
 home, 
 Soon as thou wilt. 
 
 So little Tito came, 
 
 A winsome, tiny fellow, three years old, 
 In whose young, sturdy limbs and glowing 
 
 cheeks,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 33 
 
 And laughing eyes and sunny curls, there showed 
 His father's strength, blent with his mother's 
 
 beauty, 
 
 And who was nothing loth now to be left 
 Here with the "dear Padrona" he had known 
 Since first he saw the sunlight. 
 
 And Maria 
 
 Sported about, turning well-nigh herself 
 A child again, in self-forgetful glee, 
 Played chase with him a time, and hide-and-seek 
 Behind the chairs and couches, in and out 
 Among the pillars of the corridor, 
 Stood watching, half amused, half tenderly, 
 The small, brave feet, that with such fearless 
 
 speed 
 
 Twinkled across the shining marble floor ; 
 And then, at last, both flushed and out of 
 
 breath, 
 Snatched him up laughing in her arms, and bore 
 
 him 
 
 Off to the open window, that o'erlooked 
 The great, old City, on her seven hills, 
 Showed him the hoary roofs and noble spires 
 That in the light of evening burned just now 
 Like mellow gold, and where more distant 
 
 gleamed
 
 34 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 The sluggish yellow river in the sun ; 
 Then on a soft, bright carpet set him down, 
 And brought a chest of blocks, and deftly built 
 Most wondrous bridges, towers, and citadels ; 
 While Tito first looked on with wide-eyed wonder, 
 But suddenly stretching out one chubby hand 
 With timid touch, then boldly tumbled all 
 Into swift ruin, with a shout of wild, 
 Delighted laughter. 
 
 Thus the merry game 
 Went on full long, until Maria said: 
 " Now, little man, thou must be architect 
 Thyself a time, and while thou work'st I '11 try 
 That new, sweet song once more I 've learned of 
 
 late, 
 
 Yet learned but half, and would my Piero soon 
 Might hear as fair as may be." 
 
 And with this 
 
 Rose lightly from the floor, and went to sit 
 Upon a couch, took up her lute laid there, 
 And with a touch upon its strings, sang out 
 In low, melodious voice : 
 
 " O joy of life, O joy of love ! 
 When cloudless skies are blue above, 
 In starry Spring ! 
 When happy warblers on the wing
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE 35 
 
 Do mating build their nests and sing, 
 O joy of life ! 
 
 " O joy of life, O joy of love ! 
 When God in cloudless skies above 
 Knits heart to heart, 
 That time, nor fate, nor death can part, 
 
 "That time, nor fate, nor death can part," 
 
 She said twice over, 
 Humming the air again and yet again, 
 Yet somehow always faltered at that line, 
 And so began once more, " O joy of life," 
 But suddenly paused, and sadly shook her head, 
 Then with a sigh put down the instrument, 
 Murmuring, " Ah, no, of what avail, I can- 
 not ! 
 
 Methinks I Ve half forgot the simple tune, 
 Nor does my voice ring true. How strange, how 
 
 strange 
 
 He was to-day, my Piero ! Nay, I would 
 That, after all, I had not let him go 
 So all unquestioned ! " And in truth the sun 
 Would not shine fully out to-day, she bowed 
 A brow once more grown pensive on her hand, 
 And fell again to musing deep and long,
 
 36 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Till a triumphant shout from Tito roused her, 
 Who had built up some marvelous pile alone. 
 She went to him and kissed him with much praise, 
 But then said gently : " Now, my little one, 
 Thou must go home, thou shalt soon come 
 
 again, ' 
 
 But for this evening, Sweet, thy poor Maria 
 Is weary past her wont!" 
 
 Seven days rolled by, 
 
 Swiftly as countless other weeks had passed, 
 In long accustomed ways of peace and joy, 
 And daily visits, long or brief, from Piero. 
 And though Maria marked again sometimes 
 That cloud of brooding, fitful thought in him, 
 And rapt aloofness, but a touch from her 
 Had power to break the spell, and through it all 
 He proved so full of passionate tenderness, 
 And deep, devoted love, she half forgot 
 The sadness and vague fears that v haunted her 
 On that one gloomy day. 
 
 And now had come 
 
 The hour when she must go with him to hear 
 The Fra Girolamo, arrived of late, 
 His fame, like to a clarion's stirring blast, 
 Going before him swift-winged through the land.
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 37 
 
 From every town and hamlet he had passed. 
 
 Wherever men were met upon his path, 
 
 With ears to hear and tongues to speak, rang out 
 
 Praise of his name, and marvel of his deeds ; 
 
 The miracles of passing grace he wrought, 
 
 This messenger elect of God, they said, 
 
 To purge the world of sin, and save men's souls 
 
 The sun hung low upon his western course 
 When Piero and Maria reached the field 
 Beyond the cloister, whose gray walls rose stern 
 And silent through the golden air. They came 
 Later than most, and now must make their way 
 Through jostling crowds, that still each moment 
 
 grew, 
 
 To where good Lisa and her Bartolo 
 Had kept, with no small pains, a place for them, 
 Near the great tree, beneath whose spreading 
 
 branches 
 
 A rude, low pulpit was set up, and there, 
 Ay, there, even now, stood he, the marvelous 
 
 man, 
 And pushing from his brow the long, brown 
 
 hood, 
 
 Let his keen glance range o'er the multitude, 
 Who from the city, and from far and wide
 
 38 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Beyond its walls, had flocked to hear him, 
 
 hundreds 
 
 On hundreds, till a close-packed, surging sea 
 Of eager, up-turned faces met his view. 
 All ranks and stations drawn together here, 
 Workmen and masters, artisans and peasants, 
 In leather aprons, or bright caps and kerchiefs, 
 Some with their wives beside them, and a child 
 Held at her breast, or perched upon his shoulder, 
 And close upon them, mayhap, group on group 
 Of noble ladies with their cavaliers, 
 Gorgeous in silks and gems, a soldier there, 
 Next a grave judge's cap and gown, and yonder 
 A ragged beggar leaning on his crutch 
 Beside a proud patrician's lofty mien ; 
 And everywhere, dotting the gayer tints 
 As with a sombre shadow, dark-hued robes, 
 Gray, brown, or black, of monks and friars. 
 
 Maria, 
 
 Standing upon a stone found 'neath her feet, 
 That made her tall as Piero, with his arm 
 Thrown round her tenderly, but half concealed 
 By his wide mantle drawn about them both, 
 Long watched the motley throng till Piero whis- 
 pered 
 
 Close to her ear, "Love, pray thee, mark his 
 words ! "
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 39 
 
 As with the lifting of the Frate's hand 
 An awestruck hush fell on the assembled thou- 
 sands, 
 
 And low at first his voice ere long rang out 
 Deep, rich, and rolling as an organ's peal, 
 Drawing all wandering eyes upon himself, 
 A frail, slight form, clad in his monkish garb, 
 The cord about his loins, yet seeming taller 
 And of more powerful mould than common men, 
 As, rising with the fervor of his speech, 
 The strange, harsh, rugged features, darkly lit 
 With fitful lustre from deep, burning eyes, 
 He suddenly towered into lofty stature, 
 Or leaned far down among the crowd, that hung 
 In breathless, wide-eyed silence on his lips, 
 Enkindling with a swift, strange ardor, caught 
 From him mayhap, yet not his speech alone. 
 For great as was that speech, and though he sent 
 Among them winged words like keen-edged darts, 
 Yet there went ever out from him a something 
 Beyond and deeper than all words, more great 
 Than any speech, a charmed magic spell 
 Breathed from his inmost self, until it seemed 
 The very air about, grown luminous, 
 Shimmered and shook and thrilled, charged with 
 some rare,
 
 40 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Intangible, fine essence, subtle sparks 
 That, leaping outward from the fire divine 
 That quenchless, deathless, burned within his soul, 
 Had power to reach and seize and hold resistless 
 The souls of others. 
 
 Thus, while now and then, 
 Even like the ripple on a wind-tossed lake, 
 A secret stir passed through the multitude, 
 And here and there a rising sigh was heard, 
 He set before them, scathing, merciless, 
 All the accursed evils of the time, 
 The sloth and sin and darkness and corruption, 
 Wherein the world was sunk ; how rank indul- 
 gence 
 
 And shameless passions, lust, and love of self, 
 And greed of power, had spread, a deadly plague 
 Contaminating all, and sparing none, 
 Through every rank and station, high and low, 
 Till in the whole wide land could scarce be 
 
 found 
 One soul untouched and stainless still; and 
 
 cried : 
 
 "Ay, all of you that I see here, all, all, 
 Woman and man and tender child alike, 
 Are blackened with the deadly taint of sin, 
 Bring daily one stone more that helps to build
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 41 
 
 The Temple of the Devil higher ! " 
 
 And then, 
 
 With all the thunders of his eloquence, 
 With flashing eye and clenched hand raised aloft, 
 As if he grasped and hurled a bursting sheaf 
 Of lightning on the unrepentant sinner, 
 Showed them the terrors of the Judgment Day, 
 The vengeance and the awful wrath to come 
 Of an offended God. And once, while thus 
 He stood, both arms raised high, and as it 
 
 chanced 
 
 A purple sunbeam striking him, that wrapped 
 In sudden, lurid glow the towering form 
 And dusky, fitful features wrought with passion, 
 Maria fancied he himself must be 
 A creature from that fearful nether world 
 Of writhing spirits, doomed eternally, 
 Whose torturing fires, e'en while he painted 
 
 them, 
 Played in fierce tongues of flame about his 
 
 head ; 
 
 And with a secret shudder in her veins, 
 She crept unconsciously more close to Piero. 
 
 And now, in truth, it seemed as if a breath 
 Of mighty tempest swept the multitude,
 
 42 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 That suddenly breaking, rocked them to and fro, 
 
 Like seething billows on a storm-tossed sea. 
 
 A shudder seized on all, cries, sobs, and 
 
 groans 
 
 Rose up on every hand ; some wept aloud, 
 And some upon their trembling knees ex- 
 claimed, 
 " Lord, Lord, have mercy on my soul ! " And 
 
 now 
 
 The awful voice paused for an instant, then 
 A smile of infinite sweetness, suddenly 
 Transforming some grim demon to an angel 
 Of peace and joy, broke on the working fea- 
 tures, 
 
 And raising up, like some benignant god, 
 Both hands in silent blessing on the world, 
 In deep, melodious tones, that fell like oil 
 On troubled waters, 'mid the humming crowd, 
 Where each held back the louder sob or sigh, 
 The Frate cried again : 
 
 " But friends, Beloved, 
 I do beseech ye, think if for all this, 
 Hell's fire and blood and gnashing of the teeth 
 Ye might exchange and know the love of God, 
 And peace of conscience, that might prove to 
 ye
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 43 
 
 A bed of fragrant roses, soft as down, 
 And sweet as honeyed wine to parching lips ! 
 If when your souls cast off this poor, vile garb 
 Of sinful flesh, and trembling soar to Heaven, 
 The Almighty Father should fling wide at once 
 The Gates of Paradise, and bid ye enter, 
 Crying, 'Well done,' and * Welcome, dear, my 
 
 Son!' 
 
 To dwell in bliss untold, unspeakable, 
 With saints and angels, through eternity. 
 Oh, my beloved, in the name of God," 
 And once again, in passionate entreaty. 
 His voice rose high, like ringing trumpet-tones, 
 "Ay, in the holy and thrice blessed name 
 Of God and his most precious Son, who gave 
 His blood to save your souls, I do conjure ye, 
 Walk the steep, narrow pathway full of thorn, 
 That leads ye thither ! Kneel, repent, cry mercy, 
 Unceasing day and night, in thought and deed , 
 Humble your pride, slay with a sword of fire 
 Foul Love of Self, for ay, 't is that, self, self, 
 Whereby ye fall, and Satan seizes ye ! 
 To but the few elect the Lord vouchsafes 
 The grace of some immortal sacrifice, 
 To bring for grateful offering a crushed heart, 
 A broken spirit crucified for Him,
 
 44 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 But all, all, all, the humblest and most high, 
 Man, woman, child, anointed king, or beggar, 
 Can show, in some small way, a willing soul, 
 Renounce, give up, tread 'neath triumphant feet, 
 For love of God, some petty, worldly thing, 
 Dear to the cursed flesh, and were 't no more 
 Than but the glittering baubles, gold, and gems 
 Wherewith ye hang your persons, snares to lure 
 The souls of men to sin ! And oh, sweet friends, 
 Let me beseech ye, by the love I bear ye, 
 To lose no time, and mayhap jeopard all, 
 But even this day, this hour, here, now, 
 
 at once, 
 
 Begin the blessed work of your salvation, 
 For oh, believe, the Awful Day of Wrath 
 Is close at hand ! " 
 
 He ended, and Maria, 
 Who through the long discourse had once or 
 
 twice 
 Marked how the Frate's glances turned their 
 
 way, 
 
 And for one burning instant fixed themselves 
 On her companion, and each time had fancied 
 That a slight tremor ran through Piero's frame 
 Now plainly felt the arm that clasped her trem- 
 ble,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 45 
 
 And suddenly press her from his side, and then 
 As suddenly snatch and fold her closer still, 
 And looking up, beheld a white, set face. 
 But when in half alarm she whispered, " Love, 
 Art thou not well ? " he, frowning, shook his 
 
 head, 
 And motioned, " Nay, look there ! " 
 
 Following his gaze. 
 
 She saw how at one point the parting throng 
 Made room for one, a noble lady, brave 
 In all the finery of proud array, 
 Who coming swiftly through their midst, ad- 
 vanced 
 
 Close to the pulpit's foot, and, pausing there, 
 With a deep courtesy, drew from off her shoul- 
 ders 
 
 A rich silk mantle, spread it on the ground, 
 And then, unclasping from her shapely throat 
 A golden chain, laid that upon it, saying: 
 " This to God's poor ! Here I renounce for- 
 ever 
 All worldly pelf ! " And then, with downcast 
 
 eyes 
 
 And flushing cheek, turned and withdrew again, 
 While a low murmur of surprise and praise 
 Ran through the crowd, now surging after her,
 
 46 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And pressing round the spot where she had 
 
 stood, 
 
 Nor yet to gaze but idly on. For in 
 Another moment, fired by her example, 
 A hundred eager, other hands were stretched, 
 Bringing some offering, giving what they could, 
 Each in his humble or more wealthy power, 
 Rings, chains, and bracelets, scarfs and belts, and 
 
 kerchiefs, 
 Till the strange, glittering heap swelled wondrous 
 
 high, 
 
 And on a sign from Fra Girolamo, 
 Two friars, coming forward, mounted guard 
 About the unlooked-for treasures, while himself, 
 With words of cheer, stepped down among the 
 
 people, 
 
 Who flocked about him all tumultuously, 
 Eager to touch and kiss his garment's hem, 
 Or crave his benediction. But at last, 
 With tongues set free once more,, and casting off 
 The spell laid on them by that august presence, 
 Broke into smaller groups, and so dispersed, 
 Setting their faces homeward. 
 
 Lisa, too, 
 
 Though with a secret sigh, had offered up 
 Three of the marvelous pins that bound her hair,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 47 
 
 And now Maria, passing by the pile, 
 Drew from her arm two slender hoops of gold, 
 And tossed them down amid the other trinkets, 
 Asking of Piero, with a mute, half smile, 
 Was it well done? But seeing he stood grave, 
 And looking down on her with strange intent- 
 ness, 
 She clasped her hands about his arm and 
 
 prayed : 
 " Come, let us home now, too ! 'T is late, 
 
 methinks, 
 
 And Uncle surely waits the evening meal 
 Till I shall join him." 
 
 And, in truth, the sun 
 
 Had long gone down behind the western hills, 
 And dusky, purple shadows everywhere 
 On earth began to gather, while above, 
 In faintly rose-flushed skies, fair, tiny isles 
 Of shimmering cloudlets floated peacefully. 
 So they set out to cross the field again, 
 In silence, save when once Maria cried, 
 " Ah, look how wondrous ! " as there rose to 
 
 view. 
 
 Slow following in the sun's dim, golden wake, 
 A glorious disk, the full-orbed moon, that cast 
 Their flitting shadows on the path before them.
 
 48 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 But Piero made no answer, and Maria, 
 
 Divining that her lighter mood might jar 
 
 On the grave thought wherein his soul seemed 
 
 bound, 
 
 Ventured no more just then, but mutely strove 
 To tune her spirit in accord with his. 
 But in a little while she spoke again : 
 " Ay, he is great, thy Frate, wonderful, 
 Yet fearful, too, methinks ! " " He is of God ! " 
 Said Piero, briefly, and no more, as if 
 In that one word all needful things were ut- 
 
 tere*d. 
 
 Then silence fell again between the two, 
 Unbroken till they reached Maria's door, 
 And she, perceiving that he suddenly paused, 
 Half shyly asked, "Thou wilt not sup with us, 
 Or later, mayhap, come again ? Ah, see, 
 The garden surely will be passing fair 
 Beneath this moon, my Piero ! " 
 
 " Not to-night, 
 
 Nay, not to-night, forgive me, Love, I can- 
 not ! " 
 
 And, with a passionate kiss on both the hands 
 He seized and clasped an instant in his own, 
 He turned and hastily left her. 
 
 'Neath the moon
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 49 
 
 Walk in the garden, with soft words of love, 
 Now, now, when all his heart was plunged in 
 
 darkness, 
 
 An awful storm convulsing all his soul ! 
 O Heaven ! she little knew or understood 
 What conflict, what sore fever of unrest, 
 Had long dwelled with him, tortured and con- 
 sumed 
 
 His travailing spirit, ceaseless day and night, 
 For weary weeks, though fanned to fiercer flame 
 In this dread, fateful hour ! Ah, and how should 
 
 she! 
 What though the war was waged for her and 
 
 love, 
 
 Nay, without her and love had been no war ! 
 For nought was hard save this, ay, full as 
 
 easy 
 
 As to put out to sea in some good craft, 
 Leaving behind shores fair enough, mayhap, 
 But yet not over-dear. But she, but she 
 O blessed, unsuspecting, sweetest Love ! 
 O God, did he not love her, love her past 
 Poor words to utter, was not all his soul 
 So bound and knit with her, that thought of 
 
 parting 
 Was like the thrust of death, that cleaves in two
 
 50 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 A single bleeding heart ! Sweet Heaven of 
 
 mercy, 
 
 Nay, wherefore, wherefore had he ever heard 
 That awful voice, which roused his slumbering 
 
 heart 
 
 From all the peace and joy it might have known, 
 Like other happy men ! 
 
 How long or late 
 
 He vaguely wandered on and" on, careless 
 Whither the unconscious feet untiring bore him, 
 He knew not, nor yet heeded ; heard nor saw 
 Who passed him in the silent, moon-lit streets, 
 Fond lovers, mayhap, strolling arm in arm, 
 Speaking in whispers; merry revelers filled 
 With wine and laughter, who an instant broke 
 The balmy stillness of the night with song ; 
 Or some good Frate, hasting on to bear 
 The last immortal solace to some couch 
 Of lonely death or suffering. 
 
 Wandered thus 
 
 Till 'neath the full-blown splendors of the moon, 
 Now riding overhead in stainless blue, 
 There suddenly rose before him, towering up 
 In all the majesty of ruined grandeur 
 To loftiest, dizzy height beneath the skies, 
 And spreading out in boundless, vast dimensions
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. . 51 
 
 To right and left, the wondrous, ancient pile 
 
 Built by some Caesar centuries ago, 
 
 That now, through many a broken arch and 
 
 opening, 
 
 Showing like empty eyes from far below, 
 Looked down upon the silent, barren earth, 
 But where gay, countless thousands once had 
 
 streamed 
 
 Through countless gates and portals, to behold 
 The great, imperial games, the race and wrestle, 
 The mimic war, the combat with wild beasts, 
 The awful, deadly fray 'twixt man and man, 
 And last the martyr's sacrifice, whose soul 
 Broke from him in a hymn of praise to God. 
 
 Piero passed slowly through one mighty portal, 
 And for a moment paused and gazed around, 
 Alone, he thought, in this vast monument 
 Of fallen human pride, as he were left 
 The last man living in a desert world. 
 Here, too, within, but utter solitude, 
 And deep, unbroken silence everywhere, 
 The great arena stretching far and wide, 
 With the tall, wooden cross some pious hand 
 Had here set up of late, the endless field 
 Of steps and seats, half crumbled to decay,
 
 52 . PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 That, rising row on row and tier on tier, 
 Seemed to mount half-way to the stars, all, all, 
 Part flooded with a sea of silver light, 
 That clear as day showed every stone and cornice, 
 Part plunged in blackest shadow, cutting sharp 
 Upon the dazzling whiteness. 
 
 Then he moved, 
 
 And, lost again in self-forgetful thought, 
 Climbed the steps near him, 'mid the brittle 
 
 stones, 
 
 That sometimes, giving way beneath his feet, 
 Slid down into the depths below, startling 
 Some gentle lizard, mayhap, from its sleep, 
 Still swiftly mounted, pressing high and higher, 
 Till the last row was reached, beneath the arches, 
 And here at last sank down upon a seat, 
 
 Bowing his weary head upon his hands. 
 
 All his whole life ah, and the bygone years, 
 
 Though few and brief enough by. human count, 
 
 Seemed long and many to his heavy soul ! 
 
 Came floating up, his sunny childhood, guarded 
 
 By a beloved mother's tender care, 
 
 Who left him, wholly orphaned, all too soon ; 
 
 His stainless youth, left undefiled, thank God ! 
 
 By all those sins wherewith fell Satan lures
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 53 
 
 So many to their fall. Yet had he lived 
 Even to these last, grave years of ripening man- 
 hood, 
 
 Like hundred other youths of princely house, 
 In gilded idleness and luxury, 
 'Mid merry, heedless friends, inclined, mayhap, 
 At all times to more serious thought than they, 
 And deep in study of the art and story 
 And legend lore wherein the land was rich : 
 But what was that, all that? Oh, by the Saints, 
 What smallest profit or avail ! What had 
 He ever done, attempted, or achieved 
 In that which must ten thousand times outweigh 
 All deepest lore and learning in the world, 
 To bind the wounds of some sore, stricken 
 
 heart, 
 Snatch one faint-hearted, struggling soul from 
 
 sin, 
 
 And set its feet upon the path to Heaven ? 
 What for the good of man and God's dear glory, 
 In all his wasted days ? And then had come 
 The joy of joys, God-granted, Love, Maria, 
 The crown and starry Spring-time of his life, 
 All whose blest, sweetest blossoms now must 
 
 die! 
 And then, and then, O God ! one fated day
 
 54 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 That awful voice had sounded in his ear, 
 And knocked upon his heart and stirring con- 
 science, 
 
 In loud and louder tones, with every hour, 
 And would not be denied, and swelled at last 
 To notes like thunder, or the trump of doom, 
 That on the last Dread Day shall rouse the 
 
 dead. 
 
 And as a pallid spectre first, that comes 
 Unbidden to the feast and unobserved, 
 But whereso'er its withering shadow falls, 
 Dims joyous eyes and suddenly hushes song, 
 And gradually assuming more and more 
 Substance and form, and distinct hue and out- 
 line, 
 
 Until at last it wore the Awful Face 
 Of God Himself, had crept into his life 
 The dream, the thought, the purpose, the convic- 
 tion, 
 
 That he must turn from and renounce the world, 
 To give himself to Heaven, a priest of God, 
 And humble servant of his fellow men! 
 Ah, consecrate himself alone, take up 
 A new and fairer life, cast off the world 
 And all its base delights, ay, once again, 
 That were but easy, deepest satisfaction,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 55 
 
 Rather than sacrifice at all, save that 
 
 The world was summed in that one word, 
 
 Maria ! 
 
 Maria, Love, O Heaven, oh light and joy 
 To heart and eyes, must they go out forever, 
 And leave him groping in blind, helpless night! 
 Would God demand that he should break her 
 
 heart, 
 
 That he must offer up her too, her too, 
 Both, both, two lives, a double sacrifice ? 
 " Maria, O Beloved ! Lord of Mercy, 
 Oh blessed Saints, help, save, my tortured heart, 
 Teach me to find the path my soul should walk ! " 
 
 With a fierce gesture he sprang up again, 
 And hastened back upon the way he came, 
 Down, down amid the sliding stones once more, 
 With swift, unerring feet, that never paused, 
 Till the arena reached, he went to sit 
 In the deep shadow of the cross, that spread 
 Its lofty arms above, for here, here somehow, 
 It seemed relief and comfort must be found, 
 But looking slowly up now, he beheld 
 The vast space suddenly peopled and astir 
 With new, strange, bustling life. There, on the 
 right,
 
 56 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 The purple standards and the imperial eagles, 
 Close to the Caesar and his glittering train, 
 The white-robed Senators and Vestal Virgins, 
 Beside the noble Matron with her sons, 
 And all around, above, below, beyond, 
 A motley, swarming, countless multitude, 
 Thousands and tens of thousands, face to face, 
 That close-packed filled the benches, tier on tier, 
 From sky-line to arena. Marked an instant 
 The glint of rival chariots thundering by, 
 The drivers bent above the swirling lash, 
 That urged their foaming steeds to frenzied 
 
 speed, 
 
 And gone like lightning, 'mid the clouds of dust 
 The flying hoofs left after them. Perceived 
 A tawny lion crouching for his spring, 
 Pierced by a javelin gleaming through the air, 
 And so roll over, wallowing in his gore, 
 While the crowd clamored. Saw and heard, * 
 
 close by, 
 
 The flash and shock of meeting combatants, 
 The crash of shivered swords and splintering 
 
 shields, 
 The cries and groans of wounded men and 
 
 dying, 
 And then the conqueror, as he set his foot
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 57 
 
 Upon the breast of him whose glazing eye 
 Beheld his victor gazing round in triumph, 
 Demanding his reward, and what his masters, 
 The sovereign people, bade him do ; and they, 
 Leaning far down across the parapet, 
 Flung out innumerable hands, that made 
 The deadly sign of the reverted thumb, 
 While from ten thousand and ten thousand 
 
 throats 
 
 A shout of mad applause, that rent the skies, 
 Burst forth again and yet again, and then 
 The awful cry, "Kill! kill!" while all the 
 
 sands 
 Grew red with streams of blood. 
 
 But suddenly 
 
 Through all the noise and din and wild acclaim 
 Of the tumultuous, roaring multitude, 
 Rose clear and solemn, like a peal of bells 
 Chiming together in one strain divine, 
 A single voice, proclaiming, " Peace, be still ! " 
 And in a flash, touched as by magic power, 
 All the gay scene had vanished, sunk away 
 Into the ground, dissolved in empty air ; 
 Nought now again but solitude and silence, 
 And the white moonlight in unbroken sheen, 
 There, everywhere, above, around, below,
 
 58 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And yet once more, now low and soft, the words 
 Came sounding, " Peace, be still ! " 
 
 And Piero turned, 
 
 And saw beneath the shadow of the cross 
 A form familiar and yet new, in sweetness 
 Ineffable, and passing majesty, 
 A crown of light circling about his head, 
 A heavenly smile upon the silent lips, 
 And both his arms spread wide, a living form 
 In stainless, throbbing whiteness, stirred as with 
 The pulse of some great heart beneath, that sent 
 A marvelous, mellow radiance streaming forth, 
 Like beams of quivering starlight. 
 
 " Christ ! " he cried, 
 
 And sank upon his knees, and laid his face 
 Close to the ground, on those beloved feet, 
 Clasping the garment's hem with passionate 
 
 arms, 
 " Christ, Son of God ! Thou who hast borne 
 
 like us 
 
 The mortal burden, even to bleeding Death, 
 My Saviour, my Redeemer, help me Thou ! " 
 
 He waited breathless, but no answer came. 
 Then, lifting up his face at last, perceived 
 The shining form still lingered for an instant,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 59 
 
 Stood there unmoving, with mute lips, unbent 
 In but the heavenly smile they smiled before. 
 Then suddenly, while he gazed, this, too, the 
 
 Christ, 
 
 Had melted into shadow, and he lay 
 Clasping the foot of but the barren cross. 
 
 Slowly he rose. And now upon his left 
 Once more rang out a strangely solemn chant, 
 And through the arena moved a motley band, 
 Half knight, half peasant, all with mantles white, 
 Their Master's hue, thrown over vest or breast- 
 plate, 
 
 While on each shoulder shone a flaming cross, 
 And him who marched before and led them all, 
 A noble, towering form, of princely mould, 
 Waving one hand that held a crucifix 
 Above his head, and in the other bore 
 A sword drawn from its scabbard, Piero knew 
 The Castiglione and his ancestor, 
 Whose memory all his heart had worshiped long, 
 And as he turned to cheer his followers on 
 With voice and glance, half startled thought to 
 
 see 
 
 An image of himself in those dark features. 
 A moment, and the chanting ceased, and all
 
 6O PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Broke out into a cry so deep and fervid 
 
 Its echoes thrilled through Piero's inmost soul, 
 
 " God wills, God wills it ! " and, again, " God 
 
 wills it ! 
 
 His will be done through all eternity ! " 
 And with that cry still ringing, hastened on 
 With eager feet, soon lost to view beyond 
 The furthest shades. 
 
 The moon had long gone down, 
 And the last glimmer of pale stars was fading 
 In the white dawn that deepened in the skies, 
 When Piero, worn and wearied unto death, 
 At last bent homeward slow, unsteady steps. 
 One steady purpose only, like faint light, 
 Gleamed in his soul, grown dark with whirling 
 
 chaos, 
 
 Ere yet another day has run its course, 
 Get thee to Fra Girolamo, confess 
 To him, thy heart, and by what he shall bid thee 
 Abide forever, for through him speaks God. 
 
 'T was close on noon when he awoke from sleep 
 That all-exhausted nature craved at last, 
 And wrung from him at every cost, yet made
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 6 1 
 
 But broken, brief, and full of troubled dreams, 
 And starting from his couch, that first long hours 
 Had seen him toss in feverish wakefulness, 
 And now at once remembering all, prepared 
 To sally forth again without delay 
 To San Miniato, swiftly as he might, 
 With but a touch of meat and drink, so scant 
 That old Ubaldo sighed and shook his head, 
 As from the master's board he bore each dish 
 Well-nigh untasted. 
 
 Midday heat and glow 
 
 Lay brooding in the streets and lanes and fields, 
 Through whose long reaches Piero hastily passed. 
 But here, within the cloister's spacious precincts, 
 Stillness and grateful shadow everywhere. 
 Oh, thus in truth thus grateful, still, and cool 
 Must seem all life, sheltered by those blest walls 
 From the fierce heat and tumult of the world, 
 He vaguely thought, and drew a bell that woke 
 A gently tinkling echo. 
 
 "Ah yes, yes," 
 
 Said the good Brother who admitted him, 
 "Their honored guest, the Fra Girolarno, 
 Was in, ay, yonder in the Prior's cell, 
 He knew the way ? Down that short corridor, 
 Now at his noonday meal, most like, he thought,
 
 62 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Yet he might go, it was the Frate's wont 
 To see at any hour of day or night 
 Such as might come to him with weighty busi- 
 ness, 
 And he had such, past doubt, ay, ay, 't was 
 
 plain ! " 
 
 And with a kindly nod and beckoning hand, 
 He turned away. 
 
 A dusky, spacious cell, 
 Lit by a tinted window from above, 
 Its door left half ajar, where Piero, knocking, 
 And bid to enter, humbly bent his head, 
 Suddenly confronting, face to face, the man 
 Who dwelled so close to God. He was alone, 
 Save for a gray-robed, mute, young acolyte, 
 Who served him, standing, while he sat at table. 
 For on the simple, unclothed board before him 
 Was spread, in truth, a plain, most frugal meal, 
 Some white and purple grapes, beside a dish 
 Of golden honey, and a coarse, brown loaf, 
 Next a slim glass half filled with pale-red wine. 
 He nodded silent greeting to the comer, 
 Then, after but a glance upon his face, 
 Pushed back his chair, while, on a sign from 
 
 him, 
 The young attendant vanished noiselessly,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 63 
 
 And leaning forward, fixed again on Piero 
 
 A strange, deep gaze, searching, as if to pluck 
 
 The secret from his inmost soul at once, 
 
 Asking, in gentlest tones, " What is it, Son ? 
 
 I do perceive no common purpose brings you. 
 
 Be seated, open up your heart, oppressed 
 
 If I mistake not, by some heavy grief." 
 
 And when, assenting, Piero bowed his head, 
 
 " Speak freely, Son, and I will give you comfort, 
 
 Even as the Lord shall send me power." 
 
 And thus 
 
 Cheered and encouraged, perching for an in- 
 stant 
 
 Upon a seat, but springing up ere long 
 To pace the floor with hasty, restless strides, 
 That now and then paused near the Frate's 
 
 chair, 
 
 Piero began the story of his woes, 
 Suffered so long in solitude and silence, 
 Slowly at first, and in half-faltering fashion; 
 But soon, as if some magic touch, swift- winged, 
 Had set the flood-gates of his spirit wide, 
 All his whole soul came bursting, gushing forth, 
 Like a resistless torrent. He poured out 
 In fiery words of passionate eloquence, 
 In ringing tones, with eyes and cheeks aflame,
 
 64 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 His inmost thought, laid bare each deepest 
 
 pulse, 
 
 The doubt and conflict that consumed him now, 
 Unrolled the simple picture of his life, 
 Even as it came to him but yester night, 
 From childish days, until the Frate's voice 
 Had fanned the kindling conscience in his 
 
 breast 
 
 To a devouring flame, told all, all, all, 
 Save that he ever halted, and his breath 
 Came thick and fast, and cut his utterance short, 
 Each time that he would speak the name 
 
 Maria ! 
 
 The Frate, leaning back once more, sat listening 
 Attentively, but yet without a word, 
 In seeming calmness, save that in his eye 
 Deep down a fiery spark began to glow, 
 And the long, sallow fingers now and then 
 Swiftly reached out, and thrummed upon the 
 
 table 
 Some curious, soundless tune. 
 
 "Well, and what then?" 
 He briefly asked, in strangely quiet tone 
 And face unmoved, when Piero paused. " Your 
 
 name?"
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 6$ 
 
 " Piero da Castiglione." 
 
 " As I thought, 
 
 Of princely house. You say the voice of God 
 Bids you give up the world and be a priest, 
 Nor yet are you deceived by human pride 
 And sinful confidence, in truth the Lord 
 Himself has called you, for your sole example, 
 One set so high in worldly rank and power, 
 Would win a thousand erring souls from sin 
 To their salvation and immortal life. 
 And call you this a grief, to have His hand 
 In signal mercy trace the path for you, 
 Clear as the noonday sun ? It is not thus 
 With all He summons, was not thus with me. 
 For two long years, when first I heard His voice, 
 I wrestled in fierce anguish with myself, 
 My ceaseless prayer of day and night but this : 
 " Lord, lead me in the way my soul should 
 
 walk ! " 
 
 Not sure I should subdue the warring flesh, 
 And give my undivided soul to Him. 
 But you, you tell me, too, you would obey 
 The sacred summons with most willing heart, 
 Yet half hang back, and speak of doubt and 
 
 conflict :
 
 66 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 I do not understand, you've not told all, 
 Conceal from me some point of gravest mo- 
 ment ! " 
 
 "Ay, for myself, but for myself alone, 
 
 The path were plain, most plain in truth ! " cried 
 
 Piero, 
 
 And, as despairing, flung his arms aloft, 
 His sweetest secret wrung from him at last. 
 " But I am not alone ! My soul is knit, 
 Made one forever, with another life, 
 Infinite dearer than my own. I love, 
 And am beloved, betrothed, and soon to 
 
 wed ! " 
 
 "Ah!" and a flash of darkly gathering fire 
 Leaped from the Frate's eyes : " 'T was that, 
 
 I knew it ! " 
 
 And, hastily rising now, he stood erect, 
 Confronting Piero, from whose quivering lips 
 Burst the same cry of wailing agony 
 That in the silent night had rent his soul : 
 " And must I break her heart, and offer up 
 Her too, her too ? Will God demand O 
 
 Heaven ! 
 Both, both, two lives, a double sacrifice ?
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 6/ 
 
 Father, have mercy ! " 
 
 And with shaking hands 
 Thrown out in supplication for an instant, 
 Then suddenly struck before his burning face, 
 He bent a knee, and bowed his head like one 
 Who breathless from his Judge awaits the 
 
 death-blow, 
 Or word of grace. 
 
 But the deep voice above him, 
 Falling upon his ear like the decree 
 Of merciless, inexorable doom, 
 Cried, ringing out in all its full, rich power: 
 "And would not this, a double sacrifice, 
 Be doubly sweet and grateful to the Lord, 
 A fragrant offering, more acceptable 
 Than myrrh and frankincense, and all the 
 
 homage 
 
 Of thousand single hearts ? Son, Son, rise up, 
 This is not worthy of your royal soul ! 
 What, dare you speak of sorrow, are you bowed, 
 As 'neath some mortal agony, by what 
 To call a grief at all is blasphemy? 
 Nay, rise, I say, and lift your face to Heaven, 
 In loud rejoicing rather, and glad praise. 
 For God, in mercy and supremest favor, 
 Has wondrous blest, ay, called and singled you,
 
 68 PIERO DA CASTIGL1ONE. 
 
 From tens of thousands, for a shining mark 
 Among his chosen, given to you to bring 
 An offering past all offerings, that crushed 
 
 heart, 
 
 That broken spirit crucified for Him 
 You heard me tell of yester, when I said 
 To but the few Elect the Lord vouchsafes 
 The grace of some immortal sacrifice ! 
 Rise up, I say ! " 
 
 And slowly, painfully 
 Piero obeyed, and so crept to a seat, 
 Yet looked not up, while still the voice went 
 
 on : 
 
 " And did you venture, in accursed blindness 
 And willful sin, to disobey the call, 
 Shut out, deny God's summons, sell your Saviour, 
 For the vile price of fleeting, earthly joys, 
 Think you that, at the side of her you love, 
 You would know comfort, nay, one hour of 
 
 peace ? 
 
 Would not sore conscience, like a belt of thorn, 
 Like sting of scorpions, pierce your quivering 
 
 soul, 
 
 Rankle in ceaseless anguish day and night, 
 Turn every cup to wormwood, ay, transform
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 69 
 
 The very roses of your marriage bed 
 To hideous, mocking demons ? " 
 
 Some low sound, 
 
 Half groan, half sob, as from a bursting heart, 
 Broke now from him who sat with face still 
 
 covered, 
 
 And swaying for an instant to and fro, 
 Like a tall tree, that, stricken to the life 
 By a mad tempest, snaps before the blast ; 
 For had not all his tortured, questioning soul 
 In silence long ere this perceived, acknowledged 
 The awful truth now here proclaimed aloud ? 
 
 " The call has come, the sacred summons reached 
 
 you, 
 
 And though the price were death, ten thou- 
 sand deaths 
 
 Of all the flesh holds dear, must be obeyed, 
 For God is God, and swift to claim his own ! " 
 Said the relentless voice once more, and then 
 There fell a moment's silence, while the Frate 
 Now in his turn began to pace the floor, 
 Slowly at first, but soon with hastier feet, 
 Then without pausing, asked in gentle tones, 
 " And does she know of this ? "
 
 7O PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 " No ! " Piero cried, 
 
 And, looking up at last, revealed a face 
 As ghastly white as death. " Oh, if she did, 
 Methinks that half my fiercest pangs were done ! " 
 " Who is the woman of your love ? " . 
 
 " Maria 
 Di Montefeltro." 
 
 " Ay, I know the house, 
 
 She, too, of far-famed race. I marked you yester 
 Among the crowd, you and another ; she 
 Beside you was Maria ? " 
 
 "Ay!" 
 
 " A fair, 
 
 Sweet blossom on an ancient tree. But more, 
 A woman who methinks will not be found 
 Unworthy of the generous blood she springs from, 
 But if I do mistake not, bears from God 
 A soul as noble as her face and form; 
 A lofty spirit, strong and great enough 
 To rise at need to some sublimest effort. 
 Go to her, tell her all, and go at once, 
 For Satan ever lies in wait, to slip 
 His finger in 'twixt best resolves and actions, 
 Where we delay, and so imperil all. 
 Son, Son," he suddenly said, and came where 
 Piero,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. Jl 
 
 Finding no word of answer, still sat mute, 
 And laid a touch as gentle as a woman's 
 On the bowed head before him, and again 
 In low, most tender voice, half tremulous, 
 " Beloved Son ! " And Piero, glancing up 
 With troubled gaze, beheld in dim surprise, 
 That for an instant o'er the face near his 
 Swept a hot wave of passionate emotion, 
 That left the stern, dark features flushed and 
 
 quivering, 
 
 "Think not that I advise thee even as one 
 Who looking down from chilly heights, beyond 
 Or joy or grief, knows not whereof he speaks ! 
 I, too, have bled and suffered, I, too, wrestled 
 With pangs and agonies as sore as those 
 Consume thy soul, I ween ! For I, I, too, 
 (Thy sorrow and thy story God has granted 
 Thy eloquent tongue a wondrous gift of speech, 
 Have moved me to the heart, and I will tell thee 
 What none has ever heard before,) I, too, 
 Loved in my youth, loved well as thou, mayhap, 
 If not so happily, for from the first 
 She scorned me, as too low of birth. And yet 
 Her memory, the wild hope, perchance, some time 
 To win her still, made longer my fierce fight 
 With world and flesh, for Satan did but hardly
 
 72 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Release his hold. Aye, I have known it all ! 
 Yet know this, too, learned in the fiery furnace, 
 That in his own good time the Lord will turn 
 The bitter cup of death into a draught 
 Of life and joy immortal, and the peace 
 That passeth understanding ! So gird up 
 Thy loins at once, and dauntless sally forth, 
 A soldier of the Cross ! I, standing here 
 An humble tool of God, to whom He sent thee, 
 And through whose lips He now vouchsafes to 
 
 speak, 
 
 Anoint thee thus, my love and benediction 
 Be ever on thy path ! " 
 
 He laid his hands 
 
 An instant on the head bent to his touch, 
 Then slowly stepped aside, and said again, 
 " I tell you, go to her, and find it true 
 She '11 prove herself full worthy. And if not," 
 And now, all softness gone from face and voice, 
 He cried in ringing tones, " Ay, and if not, 
 She must be crushed and broken,' as the Lord 
 Will crush and break, like snapping, withered 
 
 reeds, 
 
 All weak, unworthy vessels in His path ! " 
 And raised both arms aloft, to bring them down 
 With a fierce gesture through the air, as if
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 73 
 
 He hurled from him, and shivered into atoms, 
 Some tender, fragile thing that gave offence 
 And so must perish. Then more quietly, 
 With hands uplifted, as once more bestowing 
 His silent benediction, turned again 
 To where his speechless listener sat. 
 
 But Piero, 
 
 With a half-cry, sprang suddenly up, and fled 
 The awful presence, reeling as he went, 
 In the blind agony of gushing tears. 
 
 Ah ! it was strange enough, Maria thought, 
 That Piero since that eve upon the field 
 They heard the Frate, was not seen again 
 For three whole days! True, he had sent a. 
 
 message, 
 
 Dashed down, she fancied, with unsteady hand, 
 Yet only brief, and of but little comfort, 
 Ay, one that, when she pondered on it long, 
 Might well have kindled rather than allayed 
 The sense of some approaching ill, so oft 
 Darkening her troubled soul of late : 
 
 " Beloved, 
 I cannot come at once, though soon. A business
 
 74 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Of most momentous import, which thou, too, 
 Must learn of now, when next we meet again, 
 Still keeps me for a day or two." 
 
 For he, 
 
 Who ever thus held all her loving thought, 
 Wandering about, scarce conscious where he 
 
 went, 
 
 Or far or near, through desolate, lonely spots, 
 And shrinking in half fear from every face, 
 Like some poor spectre, had in truth delayed 
 For yet another and another day 
 The dread encounter. For remembering ay, 
 And could he have forgot a single instant ! 
 That when he next beheld those fair, sweet eyes, 
 He must wring from them sudden, bloody tears, 
 Stab to the life that eager, fluttering heart, 
 W 7 hich ever flew to rest upon his own 
 With infinite trust and all-surrending love, 
 Such sickening sense of terror seized his spirit, 
 Such a wild sense of hopeless dreariness 
 And black despair swept like a stifling wave 
 Upon his fainting soul, that all his frame 
 Shook as in fever, and his trembling feet 
 Refused to bear him on, while he threw out, 
 Again and yet again, appealing arms
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 75 
 
 To the dumb, irresponsive heavens above, 
 Crying within, " My God, I cannot do 't ! " 
 
 And yet had she not been full happy, too, 
 For all her Piero was so sorely missed, 
 These last three days ! Maria thought again, 
 For yester there had come dear Lisa's birth- 
 day, 
 
 And she had made a little feast for her, 
 With the good Uncle's leave and aid, himself 
 Consenting to go with them, and had asked 
 Some fair young friends, and, above all, the chil- 
 dren, 
 
 Tito and 'Detta, who in wild delight 
 Had clapped their chubby hands at everything 
 Of new and strange they saw, and thus set 
 
 sail 
 
 In two gay boats, with pennons fluttering high, 
 And joyous music sounding at the prow, 
 Far down the river, to a pretty grove 
 Of great, old trees ; had spread their banquet 
 
 there, 
 
 And afterwards all, young and old, had danced 
 In the gold sunset, till the rising moon 
 Cast their swift-whirling shadows on the grass, 
 All, save Maria; without Piero's arm
 
 76 PIERO DA^CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Thrown round her, nay, it seemed as if her feet 
 Could never lightly trip to merry tunes ! 
 And thus demurely at her Uncle's side 
 She sat, and but looked on. And so at last, 
 The feast quite over, they sailed home again, 
 Through a most passing fair, soft, balmy night, 
 Wondrous with star and moonlight overhead, 
 And gently rippling waves beneath the keel, 
 And faint, sweet scents, that came like happy 
 
 dreams, 
 
 Wafted from either slumbering shore. Ah, yes, 
 Piero must hear it all, all he had missed ! 
 Ay, and to-night, as she sat waiting him 
 Out in the balcony alone, knowing 
 That he must surely, surely come, to-night 
 Her heart was somehow wondrous light and gay 
 Despite its haunting fears, and once again 
 Said to itself, as oft, What, after all, 
 Could that momentous business prove to be, 
 That he had touched on in such strange, dark 
 
 words ! 
 
 They loved each other, whatsoe'er beside, 
 Or life or death might bring, this, this was sure, 
 Fixed as eternal Heaven, ay, and all else 
 Imported less than nought! 
 
 So, now and then,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE 77 
 
 She warbled half aloud a line or two 
 
 Of that same song whose air she strove in vain 
 
 To catch that day, 
 
 " O joy of life, O joy of love ! 
 When stainless skies are blue above, 
 O joy of life ! " 
 
 'Twas learned now, and she knew 
 Would please her Piero, ay, and he must hear it 
 That very eve, if so his Highness liked ! 
 She thought, and smiled to think how she should 
 
 charm, 
 
 As oft before, all trouble from his brow, 
 And drew more closely up from time to time 
 Her short, dark mantle, Piero ever prayed 
 She might thus guard her from the damp of 
 
 night, 
 
 For golden summer now was fading fast 
 To russet autumn tints, and everywhere 
 About her well-nigh darkness reigned. The stars 
 And waning moon were up, but all the heavens 
 Had long been full of scudding, vapory cloud, 
 That gathering into thick and thicker masses, 
 Seemed to portend a slow-approaching storm, 
 And suffered only now and then a beam 
 Of sickly, half-spent light to pierce the gloom,
 
 78 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And for an instant show the dusky world 
 Spread out below. 
 
 Ah, yes, and there came Piero, 
 Beneath the trees, and now across the turf, 
 She knew his form and step through all the 
 
 twilight, 
 Yet, oh how strange, with what slow, lagging 
 
 feet! 
 
 Ah, well, he guessed not she was here without, 
 Or surely he would haste him twice as much ! 
 And, leaning down across the balustrade, 
 She waved her hand, yet he seemed not to 
 
 see, 
 But with bent head approached and climbed the 
 
 stair, 
 And slowly still, came down the portico. 
 
 But she could wait no longer, and sprang up 
 And flew half way to meet him, to his arms, 
 With the swift words : " At last, at last, my 
 
 Piero ! 
 
 Ah, for how long I have not seen thy face ! " 
 And then, half laughing, added : " Ay, in truth, 
 Nor can I see thee now, it is so dark ! " 
 And, in her joyous welcome marked not, he 
 In silence and with strange, convulsive haste,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 79 
 
 Strained her an instant to his heart, and then 
 As suddenly let her go, but led him on 
 A step or two, and lightly said again, 
 Drawing him down beside her on the bench : 
 " But come now, Piero mine, and let me shrive 
 
 thee. 
 
 Confess, confess at once, what all this time, 
 Three whole, long summer days, has kept thee ! 
 
 Ah, 
 But thy dear hands are cold, art thou not 
 
 well ? 
 
 Pray tell me, Love ! " she questioned eagerly, 
 And, bending closer, strove with searching glance 
 Through the dim, fitful light, to read his face. 
 " Yes, yes, ah, well enough ! " he hastily an- 
 swered, 
 
 As if half startled, and unconsciously 
 Shrank from the soft, warm hand she laid on 
 
 his, 
 
 That instantly released its clinging hold. 
 And something strange in the low, husky voice 
 Struck with a vague alarm upon her heart, 
 So that she swiftly asked again, " Piero, 
 What is it, then ? Thou saidst when next we met 
 I should know all ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes, Beloved, yes,
 
 8O PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And so thou shalt, ay, presently ! " he said, 
 And strove to speak as stoutly as he might, 
 Yet paused another instant. For again, 
 Though he had deemed that he was nerved at 
 
 last 
 
 For this dread, awful hour, now it had come, 
 All the old terror in a whelming flood 
 Came surging back, and for the thousandth time 
 His soul cried fiercely out, " My God, my God ! 
 Oh if thou hadst but summoned me to give 
 A tenfold life. meet some swift, fearful death 
 Before a fiery cannon's blazing mouth, 
 Rather than this, than this ! " 
 
 And so, with heart 
 
 Throbbing so wildly in his heaving breast, 
 He thought Maria through the dark must hear, 
 And while his flying breath came thick and fast, 
 Stifling the utterance of each rising word, 
 He cast about how he might best begin 
 Most naturally, and least to startle her; 
 And quickly said at last, with quivering lips, 
 And in his desperate effort overstrained 
 The unsteady bow, and came to make his tone 
 Well-nigh more light than he had wished, 
 
 "Why, Love, 
 Thou surely dost remember how, the day
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 8 1 
 
 We heard the Frate preach upon the field, 
 Many gave up their finery, willing gifts 
 To the Lord's poor, thou, too, among the rest 
 Two golden circlets from thy arm. And now 
 What is there thou couldst offer up to God, 
 More precious infinite than those poor trinkets, 
 Or any worldly pelf ? " 
 
 A stone's dead weight 
 
 Seemed suddenly rolled from off Maria's heart, 
 And left it bounding free as air. And thus 
 Deceived one fatal instant, catching easily 
 From him the swiftly changing, happier mood, 
 She cried half gleefully : 
 
 "O Piero mine, 
 
 And is that all! Ah, look thee now, I have 
 A brave pearl necklace, and a coronet 
 Of ruby, yes, and then my wedding gown, 
 And that is dear to me above all else, 
 But if it please thee, one or all of these." 
 
 But he, first flushing hot, then turning cold, 
 To think how in that one brief, joyful word, 
 Her " wedding-gown," she had unconsciously 
 Summed the whole mortal, awful sacrifice, 
 Flared suddenly into something like swift wrath, 
 And springing up, cried harshly :
 
 82 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 " Nay, Maria, 
 
 Thou torturest me, thou wilt not understand, 
 Have I not said, not any earthly treasure, 
 Or worldly pelf ? " 
 
 " Piero, I do beseech thee, 
 What is this, thou wert never thus before, 
 Come, I must see thy face ! " she said in turn. 
 And rising too, she drew him with her now 
 Into the hall, where from the gilded ceiling 
 A lamp, swung high, cast rings of steady light 
 Down on the marble floor, he murmuring 
 
 faintly, 
 " Forgive me, Love, forgive ! Oh, if in truth " 
 
 But when she looked upon the wasted features, 
 Wherein these few brief days had wrought a 
 
 change 
 
 Fearful as ten long years of weary pain, 
 Pallid as death, deep lines about the lips, 
 And wide, dark circles round the sunken eyes, 
 She cried in piteous fear, all else forgot, 
 " Piero, sweet Heaven ! Piero, thou hast been 
 
 in, 
 
 Art ill even now, and wouldst conceal it from 
 
 me, 
 Stricken with some swift, awful, mortal ailment ! "
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 83 
 
 He shook his head. " Nay, Nay, fear not," he 
 
 said, 
 
 " It is not that ! " And then bethought himself, 
 And nodded faintly down to her, while some- 
 thing 
 
 Like the pale shadow of a ghastly smile 
 Stole for an instant to the bloodless lips, 
 u But ay, if thou so wilt, mayhap I bear 
 A mortal ailment in my veins! But, Love, 
 They tell me this, like other ills that kill, 
 Will send me on the way to Heaven ! " 
 
 And then 
 
 Perceiving how most passing fair she looked, 
 As now the dusky mantle, slipping down, 
 Revealed the pure, white gown, that seemed to 
 
 robe 
 
 Her form in soft dim lights and pearly shad- 
 ows, 
 
 A pale pink autumn rose upon her breast, 
 The sunny hair blown by the wind without 
 To delicate ringlets round the snowy brow, 
 And the sweet face, the beauteous, trustful eyes, 
 So wont to shine with eager, joyous life, 
 Lifted to his, now full of troubled question- 
 ing, 
 He suddenly turned away, and groaned aloud.
 
 84 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 " I do not understand," she said, half slowly, 
 Unsteady, puzzled wonder in her voice. 
 "Nay, pray thee speak, and tell me what it is 
 That thou wouldst have me offer up to God ! " 
 
 " Not gold and gems and satin gowns, Oh 
 
 Heaven, 
 
 Were 't but all riches of the earth and seas ! " 
 Burst from him now in fierce despair, while yet 
 He ventured not to look at her again, 
 " But what hast thou, what I, what both of 
 
 us, 
 
 Knit with our deepest and most tender life, 
 More passing precious to our inmost souls 
 Than all, save their salvation, all, save God ? " 
 
 " Our love ! " she cried at once, with blanching 
 
 cheek, 
 And yet again, " Our Love ! " 
 
 He did not speak, 
 But only bowed his head in mute assent. 
 
 " And what of that ? " she asked, with flying 
 
 breath, 
 Wringing the hands she had unconsciously
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 85 
 
 Locked close together, "I am blind, may- 
 hap, 
 
 My senses darkened by a sudden cloud, 
 I do not catch thy meaning even yet ! 
 Piero, 't is thou now who art torturing me ; 
 I do beseech thee, by that very love, 
 Take pity, give me light, end this suspense, 
 Speak out this mystery, whate'er it be, 
 In one bold word at last ! " 
 
 A breathless pause, 
 A torturing, long eternity to both, 
 And then there broke from his unwilling lips, 
 Faltering and slow, " Have mercy, sweetest 
 
 Saints ! 
 
 God calls us to an awful sacrifice, 
 I am to be a Priest ! " 
 
 For one brief moment 
 
 She gazed at him wide-eyed, her trembling arms 
 Dropped helpless at her side, not comprehending 
 How in good truth that one, swift, blasting 
 
 word, 
 
 Unerring as a deadly bolt from Heaven, 
 Had shivered into instant ruin, hopeless 
 And irretrievable, all present joy, 
 All golden memories of the happy past,
 
 86 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 All sweetest future hope in both their lives. 
 Then the hot blood flushed burning to her 
 
 brow, 
 
 And moving forward with unsteady step, 
 She suddenly flung herself upon his breast, 
 With one sharp cry, 
 
 " A Priest ! My God, my God ! 
 No, no ! I love, I hold thee, thou art mine, 
 I will not let thee go ! " 
 
 Yet as he felt 
 
 The wildly throbbing heart upon his own, 
 Her passionate lips on his, there seemed to 
 
 pass 
 
 An icy breath through all his quivering frame ; 
 A sudden, awful hush, a stony calm, 
 Fell on his travailing soul. The reeling ground 
 Was swept away, and sank beneath his feet 
 Down, down unending far, and he himself 
 Lifted above the vanishing, dim earth, 
 Stood looking back, and judging .earthly things 
 As from a vast, immeasurable height. 
 And through the wondrous silence heard the 
 
 words, 
 " God wills, God wills it ! " ringing sweet and 
 
 clear, 
 And knew the agony of death was past,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 8/ 
 
 And the hour come wherein the Lord Himself 
 Bade him press forward without fear. 
 
 And thus, 
 
 Slowly and softly, yet with steady touch, 
 He loosed the clinging hands from round his 
 
 neck, 
 
 And holding them an instant to his breast 
 Met with unflinching glance the eyes grown dark 
 With anguish now, and fixed upon his face 
 In passionate pleading, and so pressing her 
 With gentle force into a seat close by, 
 Said, in a firm, clear voice, and plainly heard 
 Each word he uttered, yet it seemed another 
 Who spoke and moved without his will, 
 
 " Maria, 
 Beloved, thou hast shown me once Heaven gave 
 
 thee 
 
 A lofty spirit, and most noble soul. 
 Dost thou remember how, not long ago, 
 We spoke of love and parting here, and thou 
 Didst tell me thou couldst find it in thy heart 
 To give me up, thyself to bid me go, 
 If I were called in some great, godly cause ? 
 I am thus called, in the most godly cause 
 Man ever knew ! " 
 
 Then while he stood before her.
 
 88 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Though sometimes moving off a pace or two, 
 He for the second time told all his tale, 
 Warming again to fiery eloquence, 
 For all the stony quiet in his soul, 
 In that great cause. Told all from the begin- 
 ning 
 
 Of his first doubt, while she, with eyes aglow, 
 And a bright, feverish spot on either cheek, 
 Sat leaning forward, drinking in each word 
 In utter silence. 
 
 Only once, when he 
 
 For a brief instant paused, she slowly asked, 
 "It is not then because thou lovest me less?" 
 
 " Because I love thee less ? " he cried, " Oh 
 
 Heaven, 
 And thinkest thou that my soul had then been 
 
 rent 
 By all the mortal pangs that stabbed it now ? " 
 
 And she again, in the same strange, dead voice, 
 " And will God bid us offer up our love, 
 Not in life only, but in spirit too, 
 To pluck from out our hearts the very thought 
 And image of each other ? " 
 
 " No, no, no,.
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 89 
 
 A thousand times ! The Lord Himself demands 
 
 not 
 
 What through Himself is made impossible ! 
 Maria, nay, I swear to thee again, 
 Whate'er beside or life or death may bring, 
 I could not cease to love thee, Heaven nor 
 
 earth, 
 
 Nor all the legions of grim Hell itself, 
 Shall ever pluck thy image from my heart ! 
 While life and breath and consciousness endure, 
 We still may cherish loving thought and memory 
 Of one another, thy dear name shall mingle 
 With that of Saints I call on, the Madonna 
 I worship wear the features of thy face ! " 
 He cried it well-nigh fiercely. Yet for all 
 The fervor of his speech, felt dimly still 
 That sense of strange aloofness from himself, 
 And how his glowing words appeared but like 
 A feeble echo of the past, put forth 
 Rather by one remembering hours of passion 
 Than him who lives them in the burning now. 
 
 She said no more, and he took up again 
 The thread of his discourse where he left off, 
 Told of the wondrous visions of that night 
 In the arena, of the mortal combat,
 
 QO PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Of Christ, and the Crusaders, and the shout 
 " God wills, God wills it ! " that so long had 
 
 rung 
 
 Through all the echoing chambers of his soul, 
 Drowning all else. 
 
 She listened motionless 
 Nor broke again upon his eloquence, 
 By any word. But once when first he spoke 
 Of Fra Girolamo in their last meeting, 
 How he exhorted him by Heaven and earth, 
 Not to deny his God, she suddenly threw 
 Both hands out far from her, as if in protest, 
 And a faint shiver shook her frame. 
 
 But he, 
 
 Now pacing back and forth, and wholly wrapt 
 In his discourse, looked not her way again 
 For many moments. Did not mark how all 
 The feverish brightness of her cheek and eye 
 Had died away, and she turned gradually 
 White as her snowy robe, and whiter still, 
 Ay, pallid as the hue of very death ; 
 That she leaned back, the ashen lips firm set, 
 Grasping the chair with hard, convulsive hands, 
 Like one who, stricken to the quivering life, 
 Would yet shut in the cry of agony, 
 While all unconscious breaking from her eyes,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. gi 
 
 Great silent tears rolled down unchecked, un- 
 heeded, 
 O'er the wan cheeks. 
 
 But when he ended now, 
 
 And waiting some response that did not come, 
 Ventured at last to turn to her once more, 
 And saw her thus, so white and still and 
 
 brave, 
 
 So filled and wrung with sorest anguish, yet 
 So strong in noblest courage and resolve, 
 The sight unlocked for smote his shaken soul 
 With such a mad, intolerable pang 
 Of passionate love, and tender grief and pity, 
 That all the icy dumbness which so late 
 Had struck his heart in fetters, suddenly burst, 
 And for another instant earth reclaimed him, 
 And falling on his knees with gushing tears 
 And one wild cry, " Maria ! God, my God ! 
 Demand of me what is in mortal power, 
 Not this, not this, I cannot, cannot do 't, 
 / will not give her up /" he hid his face, 
 Sobbing aloud, deep in her garment's hem. 
 
 She suffered it in silence for a moment, 
 Then looking up, and finding only now 
 She too was weeping, hastily dried her tears,
 
 Q2 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And slowly rose, laying a gentle hand 
 On his bowed head. 
 
 "Nay, Piero mine," she said, 
 And the low, tender voice was firm and clear, 
 " Not so, this is not well for thee or me ! 
 Beloved, go, redeem thy pledge, accomplish 
 The sacred duty God bids thee perform, 
 For I myself so charge thee ! Not in vain 
 Dost thou recall the words I spoke that day, 
 Thou shalt not find me feebler and more small 
 Than thou hadst cause to think me, nor yet 
 
 wanting 
 
 In larger faith, now that the hour has come 
 When faith is tried. I will not flinch, I 
 
 said 
 
 I could renounce thee, yield thy life and mine, 
 If thou wert called in some great, godly cause, 
 And that my soul should hold thee but more 
 
 dear, 
 
 For that immortal glory of thine own. 
 I give thee up to God ! Rise, I beseech thee, 
 Rise and be strong ! " 
 
 And drawn as by some power 
 Compelling blind subjection, he obeyed, 
 And rose upon his feet, and turned to her, 
 Though yet for many moments he discerned
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 93 
 
 Her face but dimly, through his streaming tears, 
 And listened blindly, while she said again, 
 "Thou thinkest it right, and that alone should 
 
 serve 
 
 To tell me all there's need for me to learn, 
 Yet can I clearly for myself perceive, 
 The Lord Himself in truth has summoned thee. 
 But know this, too, thy path to this resolve, 
 To accept His call, has been through tears of 
 
 blood, 
 
 And God forbid, Beloved, I should add 
 A feather's weight to thy sore burden, prove 
 A clog and hindrance to thy toiling feet! 
 Thou thinkest it right and lovest me, naught, 
 
 thou sayst, 
 
 Shall ever pluck my image from thy heart, 
 It is enough, I can endure all else ! " 
 
 He plainly saw her now, and though she spoke 
 
 With simple, quiet sweetness as before, 
 
 He knew this hour had burned away and 
 
 withered 
 
 Forever and past hope, from out her soul, 
 That last, sweet touch of tender, lingering child- 
 hood, 
 That made her sunny life so beautiful,
 
 94 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Struck dumb for all time hence, on those grave 
 
 lips, 
 
 Gay song and merry laughter, leaving her 
 A full-grown woman. One to whom had come, 
 And who unquestioning and resigned accepted, 
 Even as her natural birthright in the world, 
 All the sad heritage of womanhood, 
 Of tears and suffering and most bitter hurts 
 Got in the fray, and patiently endured 
 In the unmurmuring dignity of silence; 
 And yet a womanhood that left untouched 
 The perfect, virgin purity that hedged her 
 Round like a halo ever. And though now 
 His eyes once more welled over with hot tears, 
 A something in her voice and look, rapt her 
 So far away from him, he stood apart, 
 And ventured not, for all his thirsting soul, 
 To snatch her to his heart. 
 
 " Ay, aught, aught else 
 
 I can endure, so we still love each other, 
 Endure with thee our souls made strong, Be- 
 loved, 
 
 Even by the very greatness of our love, 
 For any sacrifice ! " she said again, 
 Unconsciously in darkness now repeating 
 The self-same words she spoke when skies were 
 fair.
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 95 
 
 " Love lives, so all is well, ay, passing well ! 
 For now, what though we offer up to God 
 All dearest joys of earth, within our hearts 
 We still may bear each other tender thoughts, 
 Still meet in spirit day by day as now, 
 And find each other in that common love 
 Of God and man and duties manifold, 
 In that new life we both shall know, I, too, 
 Henceforth renounce the world, and in some 
 
 Cloister 
 Amid sweet charities, will end my days." 
 
 But at that word he started, and cried out, 
 " Maria, Nay, not so ! I thought, I weened, 
 It might be thou so young and fair, shouldst 
 
 some time 
 
 Learn to forget, mayhap, and yet and yet " 
 But paused abruptly, his faint, faltering speech, 
 Brought to a sudden stop by one swift glance 
 And gesture from Maria, instantly 
 Catching the import of his broken words. 
 
 " Piero, not that ! " she said, and in her voice 
 There thrilled a new, strange note, while she 
 
 threw out 
 One hand as warding off some unseen foe,
 
 96 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And all the slender, yielding form seemed clothed 
 
 With something like a touch of majesty, 
 
 As some fair, mournful queen uncrowned, who 
 
 sees 
 
 Her throne in ruins, but yet ever holds 
 The memory of her greatness unforgot, 
 "Not that, if thou still lovest, and wouldst not 
 
 wound me 
 
 More sore and deep than any word of thine 
 Has pierced me yet ! The altar of our love 
 We thought to rear in gladness here on earth 
 Lies broken, but, thank God ! not desecrated, 
 Nor with its sacred fires gone out or spent. 
 No stranger hand shall ever touch the shrine, 
 No stranger foot approach the spot, hallowed 
 Through life and death to thee and me alone. 
 I may not be thy wife, and can but live 
 The bride of Heaven. Ay, it is thus resolved 
 Past question or recall ! Even here and now, 
 As thou wast speaking, there rose up before me 
 All the new life we both must enter on, 
 There is much work for us in this sad world 
 Among God's poor and aged and infirm, 
 We shall not be unhappy, and the Lord 
 Will send us strength at need! I may not 
 
 dare"
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 97 
 
 She said, and with a faltering, dreary gesture 
 Put one slow hand an instant to her brow 
 " To tell thee yet that God Himself has deigned 
 To summon me to this, it is thy voice, 
 Piero, thy voice alone, that now I follow, 
 But some time, mayhap, my soul, too, shall be 
 Among His Own Elect ! " 
 
 And standing now 
 With hands clasped humbly to her breast, and 
 
 eyes 
 
 Filled with unconscious, passing beauteous light, 
 Uplifted to the heavens in trust sublime, 
 She seemed to Piero, gazing breathless still, 
 The white-robed Priestess of those sacred fires 
 Of their immortal love, that she would guard 
 Forever, as she said, and all undone 
 He suddenly bowed him to the ground again, 
 And touched her garment's hem with reverent 
 
 lips 
 
 Of passionate adoration, crying out : 
 "Maria, Angel, Saint! No more, no more, 
 Lest thou wouldst have me perish, oh, no 
 
 more ! " 
 And then before him queen and saint and 
 
 priestess, 
 All, all had vanished, and his swimming eyes
 
 98 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Saw nothing more, save but the worshiped 
 
 woman, 
 
 And springing up now, with a stifled cry, 
 He snatched her in his hungry arms at last, 
 And strained her to his heart in speechless rap- 
 ture, 
 
 Covering her hair and brow and eyes and lips 
 Again and yet again with fervent kisses, 
 As if he drank his last at that sweet fount, 
 And could not drink enough, but still unfilled, 
 Though death were in the draught, drank on 
 
 and on, 
 With thirst unquenched. 
 
 And for long moments found 
 No word, save in a breathless, broken murmur, 
 " O Love, Love, Love ! Maria ! Oh, thank 
 
 God ! " 
 But then at length, u Thou 'st given me life, 
 
 new life, 
 
 Made strong and glad again my fainting soul ; 
 Nor dare I say but for thyself thou too 
 Hast ehosen passing well ! We both shall bring 
 Our love enshrined in larger love to God, 
 As in a casket set with priceless gems, 
 Before the throne of His immortal Grace, 
 And He shall take the offering and some time,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 99 
 
 What now we thus renounce for Him in tears, 
 Give back in tenfold joy, grant us at last 
 To meet in Heaven, made one again forever, 
 Love, oh, my Love ! " 
 
 " But here on earth ? " she asked, 
 And slowly raised her head from off his breast, 
 Where still his clinging arms would hold her 
 
 close. 
 
 " Beloved, tell me, pray, our parting here 
 Must not be made at once, this very hour ? " 
 And for the first time now, the steady voice 
 Broke at those trembling words. 
 
 " No, no," he said, 
 
 And drew a long, deep sigh. " No, not at once ! 
 I am to enter San Miniato's School, 
 But all the halls are full, and I must wait, 
 Some weeks mayhap, until the next in turn 
 Shall be dismissed, and so make room for me. 
 Nay, I shall come to-morrow, I myself 
 Must tell thy Uncle how our lives are changed, 
 Come several times, ay, oft-times more, per- 
 chance, 
 
 Though not so oft, may be, as heretofore, 
 For, Love, methinks even from this very hour 
 Our souls in renunciation should begin 
 Their godly task."
 
 IOO PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 She gently smiled and nodded, 
 And, wholly soothed again from that swift fear, 
 Said but once more : " Ay, all is passing 
 
 well ! " 
 
 And thus with bravely smiling lips and eyes 
 Bid him farewell at last, it must have been 
 Far in the night, she thought, and as he went 
 With hasty steps, not looking back, she marked 
 How the fierce storm long gathering overhead 
 In darkened skies had burst upon the earth, 
 And heard the wild rain rushing down without, 
 And distant thunder roll. But quietly 
 Passed onward to her silent chamber, where 
 The eternal lamp burned at the Virgin's shrine, 
 With dim, unfaltering light, sent to her rest 
 The drowsy little maid, who started up 
 With stammered words of half apology, 
 And then herself threw off her outer robes, 
 Unbound and swiftly braided for the night 
 The long, rich masses of bright hair, and went 
 To kneel in prayer in the accustomed place 
 On the low cushion, 'neath the crucifix, 
 The Saviour's image, carved of some dark wood 
 And yellow ivory, made priceless rich 
 By time and skill and thousand saintly memories 
 Clustering about each line. But when she strove
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. IOI 
 
 To find the wonted, all familiar words, 
 And would have lifted up her heart to Heaven, 
 Prepared to dedicate and give it wholly 
 In that new sacrifice, all strength and calm 
 Suddenly forsook her, all the fortitude 
 And wondrous courage, drawn from Piero's pres- 
 ence, 
 
 That while he lingered and she leaned on him, 
 Feeling her fervor kindle at his own, 
 Sustained her, seemed to rise beneath her feet 
 A magic growth that bore her up with it 
 Far from the world, close to the stars and 
 
 God, 
 
 Gave way beneath her, like a crumbling tower, 
 And sent her back to earth with one sharp shock. 
 Till falling forward prone upon her face, 
 While a mad gush of tears broke from her eyes, 
 And sobs that would have rent the slender frame 
 Burst from the quivering lips unhindered now, 
 Her bleeding soul cried out : O God, my God, 
 Impossible ! It could not, could not be ! 
 Would there be earth and heaven, and day and 
 
 night, 
 And flowers and sunshine, Spring and Fall 
 
 and Summer, 
 Ay, very life itself, without their love !
 
 102 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And must she live without him all her days, 
 His smile, his voice, his loving word and touch, 
 Whose every breath and look were passing dear, 
 Whose thought and image had been twined and 
 
 knit 
 
 So long and so indissolubly close 
 With every living fibre of her soul, 
 She could not now remember when her heart 
 Had throbbed at all, ere it could throb for him ! 
 O God, my God, have mercy ! O sweet Christ, 
 O Holy Virgin, all ye Saints and Angels ! 
 How had she sinned that there should come to 
 
 her, 
 
 Her young, glad life, this agony of pain, 
 Sorer than all ! 
 
 And there rose up before her 
 The death-sad words she read in that old book 
 That unforgotten day not long ago, 
 Not long? O Heaven, a dark eternity, 
 A troubled sea, rolled 'twixt that day and this ! 
 " Soul, art thou prepared to take upon thyself the 
 awful burden of Love for Love's sake alone ? To 
 know hunger and thirst, to be pricked with sharp 
 thorn, and pierced by a sword of fire ? " 
 And then her heart turned on itself and ques- 
 tioned,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 103 
 
 And if thou couldst, wouldst thou make all un- 
 done, 
 
 Sweep this great love, with all its deadly anguish, 
 From out thy life, as it had never been ? 
 And all her soul rose up in passionate protest, 
 No, no, a thousand and a thousand times ! 
 More sweet, my God, that I have known and 
 
 loved him, 
 
 For all the bitterness of this fierce hour, 
 Than had I never known ! Through him I found 
 And hold true life eternal here on earth, 
 Through him shall some time come to me in 
 
 heaven 
 
 Life everlasting. O my Love, my Love ! 
 And thou still art my Love. My God, I thank 
 
 Thee, 
 That all is thus, and passing well ! 
 
 And then 
 
 Came to her mind the soul that had endured 
 In one brief moment agony outweighing 
 A thousand years of Hell, to see her love 
 Clasping another woman in his arms, 
 And thought again, while all her heart seemed 
 
 wrung 
 
 With infinite tender yearning and compas- 
 sion,
 
 IO4 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Oh, poor, poor stricken spirit, quite forlorn ! 
 Dear Lord, who dealst with me in wondrous 
 
 mercy, 
 
 What is my grief to hers, I have not lost him ! 
 And thinking thus her tears flowed freely still, 
 But now more quietly, and more for her 
 Who not amid the very joys of heaven 
 Could e'er know peace, than for herself, and 
 
 slowly 
 
 Her sobs, grown faint and fainter, died away, 
 Even while she pleaded : " Oh my God, I know 
 It is not possible this cup should pass, 
 But yet Thy will, not mine, be done ! Give me 
 But strength, but strength to take my burden up, 
 And bear it bravely on ! " 
 
 And so lay still, 
 
 Her burning face pillowed upon her arms, 
 Her floating tresses half unbound again, 
 Making a shimmering veil about her form, 
 Quite still, unmoving, without sound or tear, 
 A long, long time, how long she might not say, 
 Yet felt how gradually a new, sweet peace 
 Stole gently back, and sank into her soul, 
 To fill it as with sweet, soft, fragrant balm, 
 God's blessed peace, that passeth understand- 
 ing,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 1 05 
 
 And knew her prayer was answered, that for 
 
 her, 
 
 Her too, the agony of death was done 
 Forevermore. 
 
 Slowly she rose at last, 
 
 And now crept to her couch, and as she glanced 
 Through the dim window, saw a tardy dawn 
 Whitening the skies, and that the storm was over, 
 But that brown leaves and blossoms strewed the 
 
 ground, 
 
 And that in one brief, tearful night, all, all 
 The summer's lingering glories had departed, 
 And dreary autumn come into the world. 
 
 And that blest peace of God abode with her, 
 Well-nigh unbroken, through the coming days. 
 For though her Uncle, who had set his heart 
 Upon this union, stormed awhile, when Piero 
 First broke the astounding news to him, and 
 
 swore 
 They were two fools, who knew not their own 
 
 minds, 
 
 And yet would live to rue the rash resolve, 
 And dear, fond Lisa wept to break her heart, 
 And all their common friends made much ado,
 
 IO6 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Held up their hands in marvel and surprise, 
 
 And dubiously shook wise or foolish heads, 
 
 Maria her own self, alone unmoved 
 
 Amid the general stir and cry, bore all 
 
 With sweet serenity and gentle patience, 
 
 Soothed the sharp wrath of one, and comforted 
 
 The other's passionate grief as best she might, 
 
 Meeting all fear and doubt and opposition 
 
 With but the brief, unalterable words, 
 
 " Piero is called of God, and I through him." 
 
 And came in truth to silence them at last, 
 
 While to herself she ever said again, 
 
 " He thinks it right and loves me, all is well ! " 
 
 So when poor Lisa, tossing up her apron 
 
 In blank despair about her head, cried out: 
 
 " But oh, sweet Saints, the wedding-gown, 
 
 beseech you, 
 The beauteous wedding-gown ! " she smiled, and 
 
 said : 
 
 " Why, that will not be lost, for I shall wear it 
 The day that I am made the Bride of Heaven." 
 Till Lisa, wondering, thought a miracle 
 Had verily been wrought in the dear heart 
 Of her Madonna ! Ah, if she herself 
 Had some time known such sore probation, thus
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. ID? 
 
 Been ever parted from her Bartolo, 
 Ere they were wed, or now, oh Grace, what had 
 Become of her! Nay, might she be forgiven, 
 But God be thanked, not all were called to be 
 The Bride of Heaven! 
 
 But once, when first again 
 
 Since the great change had come into her life, 
 She, on Maria's earnest prayer, had brought 
 The little Tito up to her, Lisa 
 Had seen the marvelous courage that sustained 
 
 her 
 
 Past all belief, for one brief instant fail. 
 For while she played and laughed with him as 
 
 oft, 
 
 She suddenly stopped and knelt upon the floor, 
 And caught him to her heart, and burying thus 
 Her quivering face on the bright, curly head, 
 Broke into weeping, silent and subdued, 
 But yet that shook her with its inward passion, 
 Till Lisa, her own eyes swift welling over 
 With dumb, responsive tears, thought in her 
 
 heart, 
 
 Oh, sweetest Saints, she weeps the little Tito 
 That might have come to her ! and scarce held 
 
 back 
 A stifling, piteous sob.
 
 IO8 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 But in a moment 
 
 Maria then looked up, and shook her head, 
 Dashing her tears away, and strove to smile 
 With that brave smile which had been hers of late, 
 Since the great change, a smile more sad than 
 
 tears 
 
 It seemed to Lisa, and released the child, 
 And as divining all the other's thoughts, 
 Said gently : " Nay, beseech thee, Lisa mine, 
 Be not so grieved ! I am but weak and foolish, 
 For all is well with me, believe, most well ! 
 Why, I shall have about me every day 
 Full many little Titos, none, mayhap, 
 As fair as thine, but yet I love them all. 
 I Ve told thee, that above the Convent's portal 
 Where I shall go, our Lord's blest words are 
 
 writ 
 
 ' Suffer the little ones to come to me.' 
 The Sisters take poor orphan children in 
 To clothe and feed and lead to holy ways, 
 And I may work among them when I please, 
 So the good Abbess told me, whom I saw 
 At once, thou knowst, when this was first re- 
 solved. 
 
 Though I am not to enter there, till Piero 
 Shall join his order."
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 109 
 
 Yes, and he had come 
 
 As he had promised, on the morrow following 
 That unforgotten night, and after, too, 
 Not oft, but once, mayhap, in seven long 
 
 days, 
 
 And not to tarry long, but still he came 
 Again and yet again, and to Maria 
 It ever brought a joy deep as of old, 
 To look once more on that beloved face, 
 Grown calmer now, if sometimes stern and sad, 
 Than she of late had known it. Ay, his presence 
 Brought sunshine with it still, though both of 
 
 them, 
 
 As if in silent understanding, mindful 
 Of what he said of renunciation, best 
 Begun even now, at once, had gradually 
 Dropped all the infinite tender words of love 
 And soft endearment, weaned them more and 
 
 more 
 
 From all its passionate, nameless, sweet caresses, 
 And met and parted now on many a day 
 With but a kindly glance and clasp of hands, 
 Like sober, old-time friends. And so at last 
 Came to talk calmly oft, as of a thing 
 Most natural, of their new life and duties, 
 Of all the noble work for God and man
 
 HO PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 That waited them, as,, they had once been wont 
 To talk of that dear home they thought to make 
 Together, in the happiness of love, 
 Yet dauntless, with unflinching souls pressed on, 
 Casting no glance behind. 
 
 One only time, 
 When he had stayed beyond his wont, did 
 
 Piero 
 
 With fleeting touch upon the gold-brown hair 
 That, as he vowed, had caught and held the sun- 
 light, 
 
 And been his heart's delight ask with a sigh, 
 " And must all this fall 'neath the cruel shears ? " 
 "Ay, and this too," she answered, "ay, this 
 
 too ! " 
 
 And one brief instant twined a timid finger 
 Through his dark locks, as she had bravely done 
 In bygone days, a thousand happy times, 
 Then, swiftly flushing, drew her hand away, 
 And both one instant sat with face averted ; 
 But when they sought each other's eyes again, 
 They faintly smiled, and took each other's hands, 
 And spoke of other things. 
 
 And once he said : 
 
 " Beloved, for I still may call thee so, 
 A little while, ay, and in truth forever,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. Ill 
 
 In that large meaning taught us by our faith, 
 Sometimes methinks that seeing naught below 
 Which pleased Him half so well, God did so love 
 Our blessed, priceless love above all others, 
 He would preserve it pure and undented, 
 Undimmed, unsmirched by any earthly taint, 
 As first it sprang within our souls, even like 
 A stainless, radiant, virgin-hearted lily, 
 Unutterably fair and sweet, and so 
 In tender mercy plucked it here on earth, 
 To set it in His Heavenly Garden, there 
 To bloom untouched, in never-fading beauty, 
 Through all eternity ! I think, in truth, 
 We should have loved each other, thou and I, 
 Through all the coming years of mortal life, 
 And yet who knows, who knows what might be- 
 tide ! 
 
 We are but poor, frail creatures, full of sin, 
 And Satan has a thousand wiles and snares 
 Wherewith to lure our souls. But now, but 
 
 now, 
 
 O Love, let us rejoice while we have breath, 
 What storm, what chance, what change, what 
 
 touch of time, 
 
 Could blast or break or wilt the perfect flower, 
 At God's beloved feet."
 
 112 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 "Ay, Piero mine," 
 
 She gently said, and then again those words, 
 Uttered so oft, u ay, all is passing well ! " 
 And this fair image of the stainless lily 
 Dwelled with her long, and ever gave her 
 
 strength. 
 
 For sometimes when she woke at dead of night, 
 And swiftly starting, found her pillow wet 
 With hot, unconscious tears shed in her sleep, 
 And her roused spirit crying out aloud 
 With such mad thirst for its lost happiness 
 That not all fervid prayers she sent to heaven 
 Could still its craving, suddenly seemed to 
 
 spring 
 
 A lily 'neath the very hands she pressed 
 Upon her aching heart, until she thought 
 To see it gleaming through the dark, and drank 
 Its heavenly fragrance, and was comforted. 
 
 Thus had some weeks rolled by, slow and yet 
 
 fast, 
 
 And not without some broken gleams of joy, 
 What though they seemed but like the poor, 
 
 scant crumbs 
 
 Left over from a sumptuous feast. Each day 
 That Piero came, Maria's eyes had questioned
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 113 
 
 In dumb, unuttered anguish, " And is this 
 The last time ? " But he ever shook his head, 
 And said, " Not yet, Love, surely thou shalt 
 
 learn 
 When there is need ! " For though he knew 
 
 well-nigh 
 
 The very hour when San Miniato's doors 
 Should open and send forth into the world 
 Two new, young Priests, closing on him instead, 
 He would not tell her too, but braved alone 
 The fear of that last parting, now so near, 
 That stared him in the face^ and froze his blood 
 Like some dread Gorgon's stony, awful gaze, 
 Until Maria, lulled by this delay 
 To fatal, soft security, began 
 To dream, mayhap, these days and weeks of 
 
 grace 
 
 Might still glide on and on indefinitely, 
 An even stream whose end no man could see. 
 
 And so at last had come one chilly eve, 
 
 With starless skies and soughing winds, 't was 
 
 now 
 
 Far on in autumn, when Maria's heart 
 Was filled with peace so deep that her sad eyes 
 For the first time since Piero thus had come
 
 1 14 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 Forgot to ask the accustomed, anxious question. 
 He lingered long that night, ay, far beyond 
 His present wont, and spoke more tender words, 
 And unsuspecting still, her secret soul 
 Rejoiced at both. 
 
 But when he rose to go, 
 
 And, with a passionate gesture turned to her, 
 And strained her to his heart, and touched an 
 
 instant 
 Her brow and cheeks and eyes with fervid 
 
 lips, 
 
 She suddenly understood, e'en ere she heard 
 A broken whisper a"fc her ear, " Beloved, 
 God help us both, this is must be the 
 
 last ! " 
 
 But when no answer came, and he glanced down, 
 He found that she hung lifeless in his arms, 
 In a deep, deathlike swoon, and but he stayed 
 
 her 
 
 Had fallen at his feet, and with a groan 
 Cried out, " My God, and have I slain her ! " 
 
 Nay, 
 Came the swift thought, O Heaven, far better 
 
 thus! 
 
 And so he raised in trembling arms the slight, 
 Beloved form, and bore her to a couch,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. H$ 
 
 And chafed the marble brow and icy hands 
 For one brief moment, summoned hastily then 
 Her little maid, and when she came, stood by 
 But long enough to see if she revived, 
 And when he saw that a faint, fluttering breath 
 Stirred the sweet bosom, and the closed lids 
 
 moved, 
 
 He broke away ere those dear eyes could open, 
 Covering his face, and fled the house forever. 
 
 So the great sacrifice was consummated. 
 
 And two young lives and souls whom God made 
 
 one, 
 
 Parted forever, for dear love of Him. 
 Winter and spring and summer came and went, 
 Another and another changing year, 
 Finding the two behind their Convent walls 
 Shut from the world. But yet there dawned a 
 
 day 
 
 When Lisa saw her blest Madonna robed 
 In that fair wedding-gown, the bride of Heaven, 
 Then in brief space a morning when the doors 
 Swung open, and the cloistered ones were free 
 To seek their godly tasks in wider fields. 
 And still the same old world spun on its track,
 
 Il6 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 And still the seasons rolled their even course, 
 And weeks and months and years sped one by 
 
 one, 
 
 Till ten at last were numbered, a whole decade 
 Had added in slow growth another ring, 
 To that strange, deathless, magic tree called 
 
 Time. 
 
 The Fra Francesco Piero once had grown 
 A mighty preacher and most holy man, 
 Whose fame spread far and wide beyond the 
 
 town 
 Through all the echoing land, that justly praised 
 
 him 
 
 Second to none save Fra Girolamo 
 In wondrous power God granted him to win 
 Men's souls from sin. And there was none 
 
 among 
 
 The City's poor, or ill, or sore of heart, 
 Who knew not Sor Teresa, ay, Maria 
 Di Montfeltro, she had once been named, 
 And blessed her for an angel of sweet mercy, 
 Sent them by Heaven, above all others, too, 
 The orphan children, whom she ever gave 
 Her tenderest love and care. Thus still they 
 
 breathed 
 The self-same air beneath the self-same skies,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 117 
 
 Nay, labored oft, mayhap, in neighboring huts, 
 Beside some couch of pain, but yet it chanced 
 That Piero and Maria, face to face, 
 Had never met again, save once. 
 
 It was 
 
 A balmy, golden day in early spring, 
 When Fra Francesco, passing through the streets 
 Alone, and with bent head, as was his wont, 
 Was roused from sober meditation, seeing 
 That round the scaffold of a church, new-built 
 But not completed, a small crowd had gathered, 
 Some workmen in their aprons, and a flock 
 Of little girls, by their quaint caps and gowns 
 He knew them orphans, round some prostrate 
 
 form, 
 
 A woman, in dark robes, and drawing near, 
 And questioning them, he heard, " Yes, the 
 
 good Sister 
 
 Was passing with her orphans, when a plank, 
 Dropped by some careless lad, fell from on high, 
 And she, perceiving it, sprang suddenly forward 
 To save the youngest child that ran ahead, 
 And so herself received the blow, but grazing 
 Her head, they thought, they knew not, was 
 
 she hurt, 
 But she had swooned, it seemed, and "
 
 Il8 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 " Stand aside ! " 
 
 And all gave instant way to Fra Francesco, 
 As lifting the light burden in his arms, 
 He bore her to a rude, low hut close by, 
 The workmen kept their tools here over night, 
 And one slept there for guard, that his swift 
 
 glance 
 
 Had marked at once, and laid her on the couch, 
 Closing the door behind him. 
 
 The white hood 
 And long, dark veil crushed down about her 
 
 head 
 
 Concealed her face, yet he knew instantly 
 Whom he had held close to his quivering heart, 
 In arms that well-nigh shook, as at her touch 
 The old, familiar, unforgotten thrill 
 Flashed through each vein, and now he hastily 
 
 threw 
 Her veil aside, with hands unsteady. 
 
 Yes, 
 
 'Twas she, Maria, who lay there before him, 
 As white and still, but yet, thank God, unhurt 
 Oh, strange, most strange, they thus should meet 
 
 again ! 
 
 As when he saw her last, long years ago, 
 O Heaven, what weary, endless years ! Maria,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 119 
 
 Young even as then, and beauteous, nay, but 
 
 more, 
 
 Time had but touched to make her fairer still 
 Than in the bygone days. Not all the folds 
 Of her close, dusky garb could wholly hide 
 The slender lines of that pure, virgin form, 
 And pain and prayer and patient sacrifice, 
 Had set their chastening seal upon her face, 
 Till every feature, radiant from within, 
 Seemed touched with sweet, unconscious sanctity, 
 While on the snowy brow lay unawares 
 Escaping from its band a short, soft curl 
 Of the bright hair that once had held the sun. 
 
 And as he stood thus gazing down on her, 
 The man's deep, fiery, pulsing heart, so long 
 Crushed back, subdued, denied, but never con- 
 quered, 
 
 Leaped suddenly forth, and, like a pent-up flame, 
 In one wild throb burst from its living tomb, 
 Through all the cerements of his priestly vows, 
 All the dim ashes chilly, deadening years 
 Had gathered there in vain. The swift, hot 
 
 blood 
 
 Flushed to his brow, and sinking on one knee 
 He bent above the couch, and pressed his lips
 
 I2O PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE, 
 
 In one long, passionate, clinging kiss to hers. 
 And felt that they responded, that her hands 
 Stole softly round his neck, and heard her 
 
 whisper, 
 
 With eyes still closed, as in a rapturous trance, 
 " Piero ! My God ! Ah, Piero mine, thou, 
 
 thou, 
 
 I knew that I should waken thus, I know 
 We both have died, and this is Paradise ! " 
 
 " Not yet ! " he murmured, " nay, O God, 
 
 not yet ! " 
 
 And thus recalled, rose shuddering to his feet, 
 And when her lids were raised, and she gazed 
 
 round 
 
 In questioning wonder, and then started up, 
 He stood far off from her with set, white face, 
 And eyes that would not see her. 
 
 " Sor Teresa," 
 
 He gravely said, "we found you in a swoon, 
 Yet, thank the Saints, methinks not injured ! So 
 If you be now restored and strong enough, 
 Let's hence, at once, your orphans anxiously 
 Wait you without ! " 
 
 " Ay, Fra Francesco, Yes, 
 I come, and I am strong ! " she gently answered,
 
 PIERO DA CASTIGLIONE. 121 
 
 And drew with one swift, searching glance at him 
 The dusky veil more closely round her face. 
 
 So in unbroken silence they passed out 
 Into the sunlight of the street again. 
 He, with bent head and gloomy eyes, resolved 
 Long prayers and penances must purge his soul 
 From that one moment's lapse of sanctity ; 
 She, with uplifted face and radiant brow, 
 And saying in her clear, melodious voice, 
 As all the children flocked about her, " Ay, 
 Thank you, my darlings, see, I am unhurt ! 
 *T is time to go ! " 
 
 And as she moved away, 
 Holding a happy child by either hand, 
 All her rejoicing soul cried out, " He loves 
 
 me ! 
 
 All, all is well, oh, passing, passing well ! 
 Dear Lord be praised, through all eternity ! "
 
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