67 
 
 
 
ACT IV 
 
SCENE I.  A street in Venice.  ALESSANDRO, upon a bridge 
overlooking a narrow canal.  He leans heavily, weary, and 
decrepit. 
 
 
ALESSANDRO. 
 
HE streets reek, shimmer, reel, crack with infernal heat ; 
 The sun’s a raving wheel, a pulse of hell to beat 
Its hammer on the hours.  The heavens have let loose 
Hell’s harsh and horrible powers.  All earth’s a smouldering 
fuse 
Trained to the final day that fronts the Judgement seat : 
The elements pass away molten with fervid heat— 
I have lain prostrate, stunned, not moving hand or foot, 
Morose and moribund, malevolent and mute, 
Red nightmare hunting down black nightmare in my brain, 
My consciousness a crown of unimagined pain, 
All being dulled and dense, this one chord twanged, the lust 
That stirs its somnolence, a serpent in the dust ; 
The lust at last to win my Monica to me, 
Bathe in the fires of sin through blind eternity ! 
Beat, beat !  A giant beast is throbbing in my blood— 
How turn the fast to feast, the drought again to flood ? 
If I could guess the thought behind those icy eyes. 
I would have blithe, lithe sport with the cunning cockatrice ! 
 
T