As those who pause on some delightful way Though bent on pleasant pilgrimage, we stood Looking upon the evening, and the flood _65 Which lay between the city and the shore, Paved with the image of the sky...the hoar And aery Alps towards the North appeared Through mist, an heaven-sustaining bulwark reared Between the East and West; and half the sky _70 Was roofed with clouds of rich emblazonry Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew Down the steep West into a wondrous hue Brighter than burning gold, even to the rent Where the swift sun yet paused in his descent _75 Among the many-folded hills: they were Those famous Euganean hills, which bear, As seen from Lido thro' the harbour piles, The likeness of a clump of peaked isles-- And then--as if the Earth and Sea had been _80 Dissolved into one lake of fire, were seen Those mountains towering as from waves of flame Around the vaporous sun, from which there came The inmost purple spirit of light, and made Their very peaks transparent. 'Ere it fade,' _85 Said my companion, 'I will show you soon A better station'--so, o'er the lagune We glided; and from that funereal bark I leaned, and saw the city, and could mark How from their many isles, in evening's gleam, _90 Its temples and its palaces did seem Like fabrics of enchantment piled to Heaven. I was about to speak, when--'We are even Now at the point I meant,' said Maddalo, And bade the gondolieri cease to row. _95 'Look, Julian, on the west, and listen well If you hear not a deep and heavy bell.' I looked, and saw between us and the sun A building on an island; such a one As age to age might add, for uses vile, _100 A windowless, deformed and dreary pile; And on the top an open tower, where hung A bell, which in the radiance swayed and swung; We could just hear its hoarse and iron tongue: The broad sun sunk behind it, and it tolled _105 In strong and black relief.--'What we behold Shall be the madhouse and its belfry tower,' Said Maddalo, 'and ever at this hour Those who may cross the water, hear that bell Which calls the maniacs, each one from his cell, _110 To vespers.'--'As much skill as need to pray In thanks or hope for their dark lot have they To their stern maker,' I replied. 'O ho! You talk as in years past,' said Maddalo. ''Tis strange men change not. You were ever still _115 Among Christ's flock a perilous infidel, A wolf for the meek lambs--if you can't swim Beware of Providence.' I looked on him, But the gay smile had faded in his eye. 'And such,'--he cried, 'is our mortality, _120 And this must be the emblem and the sign Of what should be eternal and divine!-- And like that black and dreary bell, the soul,