The Bell-Tower

In the south of Europe, nigh a once frescoed capital, now with dankmould cankering its bloom, central in a plain, stands what, at distance,seems the black mossed stump of some immeasurable pine, fallen, inforgotten days, with Anak and the Titan.

As all along where the pine tree falls, its dissolution leaves a mossymound — last-flung shadow of the perished trunk; never lengthening, neverlessening; unsubject to the fleet falsities of the sun; shade immutable,and true gauge which cometh by prostration — so westward from what seemsthe stump, one steadfast spear of lichened ruin veins the plain.

From that tree-top, what birded chimes of silver throats had rung. Astone pine; a metallic aviary in its crown: the Bell-Tower, built by thegreat mechanician, the unblest foundling, Bannadonna.

Like Babel's, its base was laid in a high hour of renovated earth,following the second deluge, when the waters of the Dark Ages had driedup, and once more the green appeared. No wonder that, after so long anddeep submersion, the jubilant expectation of the race should, as withNoah's sons, soar into Shinar aspiration.

In firm resolve, no man in Europe at that period went beyond Bannadonna.Enriched through commerce with the Levant, the state in which he livedvoted to have the noblest Bell-Tower in Italy. His repute assigned himto be architect.

Stone by stone, month by month, the tower rose. Higher, higher;snail-like in pace, but torch or rocket in its pride.

After the masons would depart, the builder, standing alone upon itsever-ascending summit, at close of every day, saw that he overtoppedstill higher walls and trees. He would tarry till a late hour there,wrapped in schemes of other and still loftier piles. Those who ofsaints' days thronged the spot — hanging to the rude poles ofscaffolding, like sailors on yards, or bees on boughs, unmindful of limeand dust, and falling chips of stone — their homage not the lessinspirited him to self-esteem.

At length the holiday of the Tower came. To the sound of viols, theclimax-stone slowly rose in air, and, amid the firing of ordnance, waslaid by Bannadonna's hands upon the final course. Then mounting it, hestood erect, alone, with folded arms, gazing upon the white summits ofblue inland Alps, and whiter crests of bluer Alps off-shore — sightsinvisible from the plain. Invisible, too, from thence was that eye heturned below, when, like the cannon booms, came up to him the people'scombustions of applause.