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Arthur Symons - Giovanni Malatesta At Rimini
Work rating: Low

Giovanni Malatesta, the lame old man, 
Walking one night, as he was used, being old, 
Upon the grey seashore at Rimini, 
And thinking dimly of those two whom love 
Led to one death, and his less happy soul 
For which Cain waited, heard a seagull scream 
Twice, like Francesca; for he struck but twice. 
At that, rage thrust down pity; for it seemed 
As if those windy bodies with the sea`s 
Unfriended heart within them for a voice 
Had turned to mock him; and he called them friends, 
And he had found a wild peace hearing them 
Cry senseless cries, halloing to the wind. 
He turned his back upon the sea; he saw 
The ragged teeth of the sharp Apennines 
Shut on the sea; his shadow in the moon 
Ploughed up a furrow with an iron staff 
In the hard sand, and thrust a long lean chin 
Outward and downward, and thrust out a foot, 
And leaned to follow after. As he saw 
His crooked knee go forward under him 
And after it the long straight iron staff, 
"The Staff," he thought, "is Paolo: like that staff 
And like that knee we walked between the sun 
And her unmerciful eyes"; and the old man, 
Thinking of God, and how God ruled the world, 
And gave to one man beauty for a snare 
And a warped body to another man, 
Not less than he in soul, not less than he 
In hunger and capacity for joy, 
Forget Francesca`s evil and his wrong, 
His anger, his revenge, that memory, 
Wondering at man`s forgiveness of the old 
Divine injustice, wondering at himself: 
Giovanni Malatesta judging God.
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