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Arthur Symons - Alvisi Contarini
Work rating: Low

Alvisi Contarini slaying Christ 
Swore in his beard:  "I am a melon sliced." 
Venice his vision seized. A shadow fell 
As if from the up-hoisted abyss of hell 
On the dead waters of the dead lagoon. 
A lighted lantern covered up the Moon, 
And round the lantern in a circle spun 
The idlest wheels that ever turned the sun. 
Beside Alvisi`s side a woman stood. 
Masked, and her cloak seemed dabbled as with blood 
And in her eyes an Oriental heat; 
Hardly she stopped the dancing of her feet; 
But when she laid her hand on him he turned 
As if the sword within his scabbard burned. 
On his left side a dainty minion stept, 
A man`s woman, a thing such always kept 
A thing I say and nothing but a thing 
For revels, when not closeted with the king. 
He was love`s own choice, with his painted skin 
And subtle lips that sucked some secret in 
And in the burning pallor of his cheeks 
Trembled each ardent nerve that ever seeks 
For what it longs for, what it never finds. 
Two spirits these, imaginative minds 
That change imaginations: she, Sin`s bride, 
And she the Spirit of the stagnant tide 
The wild winds stir in Venice. Waves her fan
The masked girl and the man I mean the man 
Needs never a choice. Each takes his arm; one goes 
This way or that, knowing that if dawn rose 
One of the three, before dawn leaves her bed, 
By Christ`s or Satan`s mercy, must: be dead.
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