Alvisi Contarini

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.