Читать книгу The lost chimes, and other poems - Gustav Melby - Страница 6

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Sordino from the fated city fled,

When he beheld destruction’s hand engaged

In Vandalism on the house of God;

It seemed to him an awful chastening-rod,

Because of sin which heaven had enraged,

For which the blood of thousands now was shed.

When he perceived resistance was in vain,

The city’s doom declared in blood and fire,

He left it under cover of the night,

With thousand others. Pausing in his flight

He saw the flames from the cathedral spire

Leap ’gainst the angry clouds of storm and rain.

He first sought safety at his country-seat,

A villa rich in orchard and in field,

Where he did shelter homeless refugees,

And here, for many days they lived in peace,

Until the country, too, itself must yield,

And valiant men before the foe retreat.

We will not here relate the conflict’s trend,

Sufficient that at last the enemy

Was driven from the land by armies strong,

And as in days of the heroic song,

With plunder rich, across the stormy sea,

They to their home-land shores the course did wend.

Deep sadness fell upon Sordino’s heart

For all the sorrow of his countrymen,

For all the ravages wrought by the foe,

But most of all his cup seemed overflow

With grief beyond the measure of our ken,

Because he from his chimes did have to part.

He restless grew, no place found him content,

No pleasure could his spirit satisfy,

His former love of study him forsook,

And e’en on nature he did cease to look

With that true, heartfelt joy of years gone by,—

His days in gloom and ennui were spent.

At last he in his heart resolved to go

Upon a journey—he knew hardly where—

In quest of his beloved bells, though none

For certain seemed to know where they had gone,

Still he would travel over land and mere,—

With this resolve his soul was soon aglow.