The Earthly Paradise: The Lady of the Land

The ArgumentA certain man having landed on an island in the Greek sea, found there a beautifuldamsel, whom he would fain have delivered from a strange & dreadful doom, butfailing herein, he died soon afterwards.
     It happened once, some men of Italy
    Midst the Greek Islands went a sea-roving,
    And much good fortune had they on the sea:
    Of many a man they had the ransoming,
    And many a chain they gat and goodly thing;
    And midst their voyage to an isle they came,
    Whereof my story keepeth not the name.
     Now though but little was there left to gain,
    Because the richer folk had gone away,
   Yet since by this of water they were fain
   They came to anchor in a land-locked bay,
   Whence in a while some went ashore to play,
   Going but lightly armed in twos or threes,
   For midst that folk they feared no enemies.

    And of these fellows that thus went ashore,
   One was there who left all his friends behind;
   Who going inland ever more and more,
   And being left quite alone, at last did find
   A lonely valley sheltered from the wind,
   Wherein, amidst an ancient cypress wood,
   A long-deserted ruined castle stood.

    The wood, once ordered in fair grove and glade,
   With gardens overlooked by terraces,
   And marble-pavèd pools for pleasure made,
   Was tangled now and choked with fallen trees;
   And he who went there, with but little ease
   Must stumble by the stream's side, once made meet
   For tender women's dainty wandering feet.

    The raven's croak, the low wind choked and drear,
   The baffled stream, the grey wolf's doleful cry,
   Were all the sounds that mariner could hear,
   As through the wood he wandered painfully;
   But as unto the house he drew anigh,
   The pillars of a ruined shrine he saw,
   The once fair temple of a fallen law.

    No image was there left behind to tell
   Before whose face the knees of men had bowed;
   An altar of black stone, of old wrought well,
   Alone beneath a ruined roof now showed
   The goal whereto the folk were wont to crowd,
   Seeking for things forgotten long ago,
   Praying for heads long ages laid a-low.

    Close to the temple was the castle-gate,
   Doorless and crumbling; there our fellow turned,
   Trembling indeed at what might chance to wait
   The prey entrapped, yet with a heart that burned
   To know the most of what might there be learned,
   And hoping somewhat too, amid his fear,
   To light on such things as all men hold dear.

    Noble the house was, nor seemed built for war,
   But rather like the work of other days,
   When men, in better peace than now they are,
   Had leisure on the world around to gaze,
   And noted well the past times' changing ways;
   And fair with sculptured stories it was wrought,
   By lapse of time unto dim ruin brought.

    Now as he looked about on all these things
   And strove to read the mouldering histories,
   Above the door an image with wide wings,
    Whose unclad limbs a serpent seemed to seize,
   He dimly saw, although the western breeze
   And years of biting frost and washing rain
   Had made the carver's lab our well-nigh vain.

    But this, though perished sore and worn away,
   He noted well, because it seemed to be,
   After the fashion of another day,
   Some great man's badge of war or armoury;
   And round it a carved wreath he seemed to see:
   But taking note of these things, at the last
   The mariner beneath the gateway passed.

    And there a lovely cloistered court he found,
   A fountain in the mist o'erthrown and dry,
   And in the cloister briers twining round
   The slender shafts; the wondrous imagery
   Outworn by more than many years gone by;
   Because the country people, in their fear
   Of wizardry, had wrought destruction here,

    And piteously these fair things had been maimed;
   There stood great Jove, lacking his head of might;
   Here was the archer, swift Apollo, lamed;
   The shapely limbs of Venus hid from sight
   By weeds and shards; Diana's ankles light
   Bound with the cable of some coasting ship;
   And rusty nails through Helen's maddening lip.

    Therefrom unto the chambers did he pass,
   And found them fair still, midst of their decay,
   Though in them now no sign of man there was,
   And everything but stone had passed away
   That made them lovely in that vanished day;
   Nay, the mere walls themselves would soon be gone
   And nought be left but heaps of mouldering stone.

    B