Mark's Place, called the Bocca di Piazza,
(mouth of the square), the Venetian character is nearly destroyed, first
by the frightful facade of San Moise, which we will pause at another
time to examine, and then by the modernizing of the shops as they near
the piazza, and the mingling with the lower Venetian populace of
lounging groups of English and Austrians. We will push fast through them
into the shadow of the pillars at the end of the "Bocca di Piazza," and
then we forget them all; for between those pillars there opens a great
light, and, in the midst of it, as we advance slowly, the vast tower of
St. Mark seems to lift itself visibly forth from the level field of
chequered stones; and, on each side, the countless arches prolong
themselves into ranged symmetry, as if the rugged and irregular houses
that pressed together above us in the dark alley had been struck back
into sudden obedience and lovely order, and all their rude casements and
broken walls had been transformed into arches charged with goodly
sculpture, and fluted shafts of delicate stone.
SECTION XIV. And well may they fall back, for beyond those troops of
ordered arches there rises a vision out of the earth, and all the great
square seems to have opened from it in a kind of awe, that we may see it
far away;--a multitude of pillars and white domes, clustered into a long
low pyramid of colored light; a treasure-heap, it seems, partly of gold,
and partly of opal and mother-of-pearl, hollowed beneath into five great
vaulted porches, ceiled with fair mosaic, and beset with sculpture of
alabaster, clear as amber and delicate as ivory,--sculpture fantastic
and involved, of palm leaves and lilies, and grapes and pomegranates,
and birds clinging and fluttering among the branches, all twined
together into an endless network of buds and plumes; and, in the midst
of it, the solemn forms of angels, sceptred, and robed to the feet, and
leaning to each other across the gates, their figures indistinct among
the gleaming of the golden ground through the leaves beside them,
interrupted and dim, like the morning light as it faded back among the
branches of Eden, when first its gates were angel-guarded long ago.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115