XII. THE BOOK AND THE RING.
Here were the end, had anything an end: Thus, lit and launched, up and up roared and soared A rocket, till the key o' the vault was reached, And wide heaven held, a breathless minute-space, In brilliant usurpature: thus caught spark, Rushed to the height, and hung at full of fame Over men's upturned faces, ghastly thence, Our glaring Guido: now decline must be. In its explosion, you have seen his act, By my power—may-be, judged it by your own,— Or composite as good orbs prove, or crammed With worse ingredients than the Wormwood Star. The act, over and ended, falls and fades: What was once seen, grows what is now described, Then talked of, told about, a tinge the less In every fresh transmission; till it melts, Trickles in silent orange or wan grey Across our memory, dies and leaves all dark, And presently we find the stars again. Follow the main streaks, meditate the mode Of brightness, how it hastes to blend with black!
After that February Twenty-Two, Since our salvation, Sixteen-Ninety-Eight, Of all reports that were, or may have been, Concerning those the day killed or let live, Four I count only. Take the first that comes. A letter from a stranger, man of rank, Venetian visitor at Rome,—who knows, On what pretence of busy idleness? Thus he begins on evening of that day.
"Here are we at our end of Carnival; "Prodigious gaiety and monstrous mirth, "And constant shift of entertaining show: "With influx, from each quarter of the globe, "Of strangers nowise wishful to be last "I' the struggle for a good place presently "When that befalls fate cannot long defer. "The old Pope totters on the verge o' the grave: "You see, Malpichi understood far more "Than Tozzi how to treat the ailments: age, "No question, renders these inveterate. "Cardinal Spada, actual Minister, "Is possible Pope; I wager on his head, "Since those four entertainments of his niece "Which set all Rome a-stare: Pope probably— "Though Colloredo has his backers too, "And San Cesario makes one doubt at times: "Altieri will be Chamberlain at most.
"A week ago the sun was warm like May, "And the old man took daily exercise "Along the river-side; he loves to see "That Custom-house he built upon the bank, "For, Naples born, his tastes are maritime: "But yesterday he had to keep in-doors "Because of the outrageous rain that fell. "On such days the good soul has fainting-fits, "Or lies in stupor, scarcely makes believe "Of minding business, fumbles at his beads. "They say, the trust that keeps his heart alive "Is that, by lasting till December next, "He may hold Jubilee a second time, "And, twice in one reign, ope the Holy Doors. "By the way, somebody responsible "Assures me that the King of France has writ "Fresh orders: Fénelon will be condemned: "The Cardinal makes a wry face enough, "Having a love for the delinquent: still, "He's the ambassador, must press the point. "Have you a wager too, dependent here?