IV

That winter-hour, in Via Larga, when

Thou wert commanded to build up in snow

      Some marvel of thine art, which straight again

Dissolved beneath the sun's Italian glow,

While thine eyes, still broad with the plastic passion,

Thawed, too, in drops of wounded manhood,..since,

      Mocking alike thine art and indignation,

Laughed at the palace-window the new prince,..

      "Aha! this genius needs for exaltation,

When all's said, and howe'er the proud may wince,

      A little marble from our princely mines!"

I do believe that hour thou laughedst too,

      For the whole world and for thy Florentines,

After those few tears—which were only few!

      That as, beneath the sun, the grand white lines

Of thy snow-statue trembled and withdrew,—

      The head, erect as Jove's, being palsied first,

The eyelids flattened, the full brow turned blank,-

      When the right hand, upraised as if it cursed,

Dropped, a mere snowball, and the people sank

      Their voices, though a louder laughter burst

From the window,—Michel, then, thy soul could thank

      God and the prince, for promise and presage,

And laugh the laugh back, I think, verily,

      Thine eyes being purged by tears of righteous rage,

To read a wrong into a prophecy,

      And measure a true great man's heritage

Against a mere Grand-duke's posterity.

      I think thy soul said then, "I do not need

A princedom and its quarries, after all;

      For if I write, paint, carve a word, indeed,

On book or board or dust, on floor or wall,

      The same is kept of God who taketh heed

That not a letter of the meaning fall,

Or ere it teach and teach His world's deep heart,

Outlasting, therefore, all your lordships, Sir!

      So keep your stone, beseech you, for your part,

To cover up your grave-place and refer

      The proper titles! I live by my art!

The thought I threw into this snow shall stir

      This gazing people when their gaze is done;

And the tradition of your act and mine,

      When all the snow is melted in the sun,

Shall gather up, for unborn men, a sign

      Of what is the true princedom! ay, and none

Shall laugh that day, except the drunk with wine."