Ponte Dell Angelo, Venice

Stop rowing! This one of our bye-canals     Oer a certain bridge you have to cross     Thats named, Of the Angel: listen why!     The name Of the Devil too much appalls     Venetian acquaintance, so, his the loss,     While the gain goes . . . look on high!     An angel visibly guards yon house:     Above each scutcheon, a pair, stands he,     Enfolds them with droop of either wing:     The familys fortune were perilous     Did he thence depart, you will soon agree,     If I hitch into verse the thing.     For, once on a time, this house belonged     To a lawyer of note, with law and to spare,     But also with overmuch lust of gain:     In the matter of law you were nowise wronged,     But alas for the lucre! He picked you bare     To the bone. Did folk complain?     I exact, growled he, works rightful due:     Tis folk seek me, not I seek them.     Advice at its price! They succeed or fail,     Get law in each case, and a lesson too:     Keep clear of the Courts, is advice ad rem:     Theyll remember, Ill be bail!     So, he pocketed fee without a qualm.     What reason for squeamishness? Labor done,     To play he betook him with lightened heart,     Ate, drank, and made merry with song or Psalm,     Since the yoke of the Church is an easy one,     Fits neck nor causes smart.     Brief: never was such an extortionate     Rascal, the word has escaped my teeth!     And yet, (alls down in a book no ass     Indited, believe me!), this reprobate     Was punctual at prayer-time: gold lurked beneath     Alloy of the rankest brass.     For, play the extortioner as he might,     Fleece folk each day and all day long,     There was this redeeming circumstance:     He never lay down to sleep at night     But he put up a prayer first, brief yet strong,     Our Lady avert mischance!     Now it happened at close of a fructuous week     I must ask, quoth he, some Saint to dine:     I want that widow well out of my ears     With her ailing and wailing. Who bade her seek     Redress at my hands? She was wronged! Folk whine     If to Law wrong right appears.     Matteo da Bascio, hes my man!     No less than Chief of the Capucins:     His presence will surely suffumigate     My house, fools think lies under a ban     If somebody loses what somebody wins.     Hark, there he knocks at the grate!     Come in, thou blessed of Mother Church!     I go and prepare, to bid, that is,     My trusty and diligent servitor     Get all things in readiness. Vain the search     Through Venice for one to compare with this.     My model of ministrants: for,     For, once again, nay, three times over.     My helpmates an ape! so intelligent,     I train him to drudge at household work:     He toils and he moils, I live in clover:     Oh, you shall see! Theres a goodly scent,     From his cooking, or Im a Turk!     Scarce need to descend and supervise:     Ill do it, however: wait here awhile!     So, down to the kitchen gayly scuttles     Our host, nor notes the alarmed surmise     Of the holy man. O depth of guile!     He blindly guzzles and guttles,     While, who is it dresses the food and pour,     The liquor? Some fiend, I make no doubt,     In likeness of, which of the loathly brutes     An ape! Where hides he? No bull that gores     No bear that hugs, t is the mock and flow     Of an ape, fiends face that suits.     So, out with thee, creature, wherever thou hidest!     I charge thee, by virtue of . . . right do I judge!     There skulks he perdue, crouching under the bed.     Well done! What, forsooth, in beasts shape thou confidest?     I know and would name thee but that I begrudge     Breath spent on such carrion. Instead.     I adjure thee by-- Stay! laughed the portent that rose     From floor up to ceiling: No need to adjure!     See Satan in person, late ape by command     Of Him thou adjurest in vain. A saints nose     Scents brimstone though incense be burned for a lure.     Yet, hence! for Im safe, understand!     Tis my charge to convey to fit punishments place     This lawyer, my liegeman, for cruelty wrought     On his clients, the widow and orphan, poor souls     He has plagued by exactions which proved laws disgrace,     Made equity void and to nothingness brought     Gods pity. Fiends, on with fresh coals!     Stay! nowise confounded, withstands Hell its match:     How comes it, were truth in this story of thine,     Gods punishment suffered a minutes delay?     Weeks, months have elapsed since thou squattedst at watch     For a spring on thy victim: what caused thee decline     Advantage till challenged to-day?     That challenge I meet with contempt, quoth the fiend.     Thus much I acknowledge: the mans armed in mail:     I wait till a joints loose, then quick ply my claws.     Thy friends one good custom, he knows not, has screened     His flesh hitherto from what else would assail:     At Save me, Madonna! I pause.     That prayer did the losel but once pretermit,     My pounce were upon him. I keep me attent:     Hes in safety but till hes caught napping. Enough!     Ay, enough! smiles the Saint, for the biter is bit,     The spy caught in somnolence. Vanish! Im sent     To smooth up what fiends do in rough.     I Vanish? Through wall or through roof? the ripost     Grinned gayly. My orders were, Leave not unharmed     The abode of this lawyer! Do damage to prove     T was for something thou quittedst the land of the lost,     To add to their number this unit! Though charmed     From descent there, on earth thats above     I may haply amerce him. So do, and begone,     I command thee! For, look! Though theres doorway behind     And window before thee, go straight through the wall,     Leave a breach in the brickwork, a gap in the stone     For who passes to stare at! Spare speech! Im resigned:     Here goes! roared the goblin, as all.     Wide bat-wings, spread arms and legs, tail out a-stream,     Crash obstacles went, right and left, as he soared     Or else sank, was clean gone through the hole anyhow.     The Saint returned thanks: then a satisfied gleam     On the bald polished pate showed that triumph was scored.     To dinner with appetite now!     Down he trips. In good time! smirks the host. Didst thou scent     Rich savor of roast meat? Where hides he, my ape?     Look alive, be alert! Hes away to wash plates.     Sit down, Saint! Whats here? Dost examine a rent     In the napkin thou twistest and twirlest? Agape . . .     Ha, blood is it drips nor abates     From thy wringing a cloth, late was lavendered fair?     What means such a marvel? Just this does it mean:     I convince and convict thee of sin! answers straight     The Saint, wringing on, wringing ever, oh, rare!     Blood, blood from a napery snow not more clean.     A miracle shows thee thy state!     See, blood thy extortions have wrung from the flesh     Of thy clients who, sheep-like, arrived to be shorn,     And left thee, or fleeced to the quick or so flayed     That, behold, their blood gurgles and grumbles afresh     To accuse thee! Ay, down on thy knees, get up sworn     To restore! Restitution once made,     Sin no more! Dost thou promise? Absolved, then, arise!     Upstairs follow me! Art amazed at yon breach?     Who battered and shattered and scattered, escape     From thy purlieus obtaining? That Father of Lies     Thou wast wont to extol for his feats, all and each     The Devils disguised as thine ape!     Be sure that our lawyer was torn by remorse,     Shed tears in a flood, vowed and swore so to alter     His ways that how else could our Saint but declare     He was cleansed of past sin? For sin future, fare worse     Thou undoubtedly wilt, warned the Saint, shouldst thou falter     One whit! Oh, for that have no care!     I am firm in my purposed amendment. But, prithee,     Must ever affront and affright me yon gap?     Who made it for exit may find it of use     For entrance as easy. If, down in his smithy     He forges me fetters, when heated, mayhap,     Hell up with an armful! Broke loose.     How bar him out henceforth? Judiciously urged!     Was the good mans reply. How to balk him is plain.     Theres nothing the Devil objects to so much,     So speedily flies from, as one of those purged     Of his presence, the angels who erst formed his train,     His, their emperor. Choose one of such!     Get fashioned his likeness and set him on high     At back of the breach thus adroitly filled up:     Display him as guard of two scutcheons, thy arms:     I warrant no devil attempts to get by     And disturb thee so guarded. Eat, drink, dine, and sup,     In thy rectitude, safe from alarms!     So said and so done. See, the angel has place     Where the Devil has passage! Alls down in a book.     Gainsay me? Consult it! Still faithless? Trust me?     Trust Father Boverio who gave me the case     In his Annals, gets of it, by hook or by crook,     Two confirmative witnesses: three     Are surely enough to establish an act:     And thereby we learn, would we ascertain truth,     To trust wise tradition which took, at the time,     Note that served till slow history ventured on fact,     Though folk have their fling at tradition forsooth!     Row, boys, fore and aft, rhyme and chime!