In ancient tales they tell of golden castles,
Where harps are sounding, lovely ladies dance,
And gay attendants gleam, and jessamine,
Myrtle, and roses spread their soft perfume--
And yet a single word of sad enchantment
Sweeps all the glory of the scene to naught,
And there remain but ruins old and grey,
And screaming birds of night and foul morass.
Even so have I, with but a single word,
Enchanted Nature’s blooming loveliness.
There lies she now, lifeless, cold, and pale,
Just like a monarch’s corse laid out in state,
The royal deathly cheeks fresh stained with rouge,
And in his hand the kingly sceptre laid,
Yet still his lips are yellow, and most changed,
For they forgot to dye them, as they should,
And mice are jumping o’er the monarch’s nose,
And mock the golden sceptre in his grasp.
It is everywhere agreed, Madam, that one should deliver a soliloquy
before shooting himself. Most men on such occasions use Hamlet’s “To
be, or not to be.” It is an excellent passage, and I would gladly have
quoted it--but charity begins at home, and when a man has written
tragedies himself, in which such farewell-to-life speeches occur as,
for instance, in my immortal _Almansor_, it is very natural that one
should prefer his own words even to Shakespeare’s. At any rate, the
delivery of such speeches is a very useful custom; one gains at least a
little time. And so it came to pass that I remained a rather long time
standing at the corner Strada San Giovanni--and as I stood there like a
condemned criminal awaiting death, I raised my eyes and suddenly beheld
her. She wore her blue silk dress and rose-red hat, and her eyes looked
at me so mildly, so death-conqueringly, so life-givingly--Madam, you
well know, out of Roman history, that when the vestals in ancient Rome
met on their way a malefactor led to death they had the right to pardon
him, and the poor rogue lived. With a single glance she saved me from
death, and I stood before her revived, and dazzled by the sunbeams of
her beauty, and she passed on--and left me alive.
And she left me alive, and I live, which is the main point.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account