Mortadello

OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 11 Aches for thy sound and sight, for breast and body yearns What purple wraps me round in its imperial fold But thy bright body, wound about this breast of gold ? The night is hot. Night’s dome is widowed of the wind. I choke. I dare not come. I am broken up and blind With passion. Bring the gondola ! Off Lido’s strand Let me adore you on the water. ORLANDO. Ah ! the land Is an unworthy soul to excite our ecstasy, Whose billows rise and roll and tumble like the sea. Lo ! heaven is scarred across by the first moonray ! [The moon rises MAGDALENA. Go ! I pant. I heave. What loss one moment is ! How slow The pulse of the world beats when you are not with me ! ORLANDO. Look ! how the moon defeats the silence of the sea ! I go. [MAGDALENA withdraws, closing the shutter. He turns toward the bridge for a few steps, then stops. She said no less, she looked no less, she swore. No less, with equal stress, to him an hour before. O had she said one word “ I tricked the Count,” may be My dotage might have heard, love leaned to loyalty. I know myself a fool, a thing of dross and dust, A cunning harlot’s tool, slave of a vixen’s lust. And yet—her slave. Begone ! this midnight’s sea of flame Shall stretch my soul upon its crucifix of shame. [Reaching the bridge, he is met by MONICA, who, followed by two Sisters of Mercy moves toward the palace, her hands folded, and her lips moving in prayer.