Now so it chanced that to this place There came a man of Sicily, Who when the image he did see, Knew full well who, in days of yore, Had set it there; for much strange lore, In Egypt and in Babylon, This man with painful toil had won; And many secret things could do; So verily full well he knew That master of all sorcery Who wrought the thing in days gone by, And doubted not that some great spell It guarded, but could nowise tell What it might be. So, day by day, Still would he loiter on the way, And watch the image carefully, Well mocked of many a passer-by. And on a day he stood and gazed Upon the slender finger, raised Against a doubtful cloudy sky, Nigh noontide; and thought, "Certainly The master who made thee so fair By wondrous art, had not stopped there, But made thee speak, had he not thought That thereby evil might be brought Upon his spell." But as he spoke, From out a cloud the noon sun broke With watery light, and shadows cold: Then did the Scholar well behold How, from that finger carved to tell Those words, a short black shadow fell Upon a certain spot of ground, And thereon, looking all around And seeing none heeding, went straightway Whereas the finger's shadow lay, And with his knife about the place A little circle did he trace; Then home he turned with throbbing head, And forthright gat him to his bed, And slept until the night was late And few men stirred from gate to gate. So when at midnight he did wake, Pickaxe and shovel did he take, And, going to that now silent square, He found the mark his knife made there, And quietly with many a stroke The pavement of the place he broke: And so, the stones being set apart, He 'gan to dig with beating heart, And from the hole in haste he cast The marl and gravel; till at last, Full shoulder high, his arms were jarred, For suddenly his spade struck hard With clang against some metal thing: And soon he found a brazen ring, All green with rust, twisted, and great As a man's wrist, set in a plate Of copper, wrought all curiously With words unknown though plain to see, Spite of the rust; and flowering trees, And beasts, and wicked images, Whereat he shuddered: for he knew What ill things he might come to do, If he should still take part with these And that Great Master strive to please. But small time had he then to stand And think, so straight he set his hand Unto the ring, but where he thought That by main strength it must be brought From out its place, lo! easily It came away, and let him see A winding staircase wrought of stone, Wherethrough the new-come wind did moan. Then thought he, "If I come alive From out this place well shall I thrive, For I may look here certainly The treasures of a king to see, A mightier man than men are now. So in few days what man shall know The needy Scholar, seeing me