XII

I saw and witness how the Duke came back.

      The regular tramp of horse and tread of men

Did smite the silence like an anvil black

      And sparkless. With her wide eyes at full strain,

Our Tuscan nurse exclaimed, "Alack, alack,

      Signora! these shall be the Austrians." "Nay,

Hush, hush," I answered, "do not wake the child!"

      For so, my two-months' baby sleeping lay

In milky dreams upon the bed and smiled;

      And I thought "he shall sleep on, while he may,

Through the world's baseness. Not being yet defiled,

      Why should he be disturbed by what is done?"

Then, gazing, I beheld the long-drawn street

      Live out, from end to end, full in the sun,

With Austria's thousands. Sword and bayonet,

      Horse, foot, artillery,—cannons rolling on,

Like blind, slow storm-clouds gestant with the heat

      Of undeveloped lightnings, each bestrode

By a single man, dust-white from head to heel,

      Indifferent as the dreadful thing he rode,

Calm as a sculptured Fate, and terrible!

      As some smooth river which hath overflowed,

Doth slow and silent down its current wheel

      A loosened forest, all the pines erect,—

So, swept, in mute significance of storm,

      The marshalled thousands,—not an eye deflect

To left or right, to catch a novel form

      Of the famed city adorned by architect

And carver, nor of Beauties live and warm

      Scared at the casements,—all, straightforward eyes

And faces, held as steadfast as their swords,

      And cognisant of acts, not imageries.

The key, O Tuscans, too well fits the wards!

      Ye asked for mimes; these bring you tragedies—

For purple; these shall wear it as your lords.

      Ye played like children: die like innocents!

Ye mimicked lightnings with a torch: the crack

      Of the actual bolt, your pastime, circumvents.

Ye called up ghosts, believing they were slack

      To follow any voice from Gilboa's tents,...

Here's Samuel!—and, so, Grand-dukes come back!