OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 
15 
 
His branding breath to bear me far beyond heaven and 
hell. 
Come !  let me hold my crystal cross up to the moon : 
A guess of gold were at a loss to tell its tune. 
See !  I draw slowly, lustful bliss my fond regard : 
The high and holy emblem is a poinard ! 
Dipped in such slime of Afric that a spider scratch 
Is mortal.  Crime so delicate shall make a match 
With Mortadello.  Filthy hound !  Vile sneering goat ! 
Soon my bedfellow, this be found thrust through your 
throat ! 
The comedy is fierce, is long, is dangerous ; 
But I am free, but I am strong, am sinuous, 
Subtle as an asp, implacable as fire or flood, 
A girl to grasp the crown of hell through wine and blood. 
Hush !  ’tis the plash of oars.  Come, sweet, and bathe 
me in. 
Her blood.  Come splash me head to feet with scarlet sin ! 
[She kneels and clasps her hands, raising her voice as 
the gondola approaches. 
Dear Christ, preserve me from the lusts of evil men, 
Or let my martyrdom avail to save them then ! 
Be pleased to pardon her whose doom unfolds, a scroll 
All scribbled sinister, do thou receive her soul 
Whose body must endure what for myself she craved. 
A dark deed and impure—but Venice must be saved ! 
 
 
 
[ORLANDO lands from the gondola. 
Oh !  is it you so soon ? 
ORLANDO. 
I thought I had been slow. 
MONICA.  Cannot we wait ? 
ORLANDO. 
 
Can June save January’s snow ?