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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
469
MASKS
Cucullus non facit monachum
Live it down! as you have spoken
You could live it ere you knew
What love was—“a bauble broken,
Foolish, of a thing untrue.”—
You, Viola, with your beauty,
Cloistered, die a nun? No! you—
You must wed: it is your duty.
You could live it ere you knew
What love was—“a bauble broken,
Foolish, of a thing untrue.”—
You, Viola, with your beauty,
Cloistered, die a nun? No! you—
You must wed: it is your duty.
There's your poniard; for the second
In this tazza dropped: the blood
On it scarcely hard. ... I reckoned
Happily that hour we stood
There upon your palace-stairway,
How, with the Franciscan hood
Cowled, I said, there was a bare way.
In this tazza dropped: the blood
On it scarcely hard. ... I reckoned
Happily that hour we stood
There upon your palace-stairway,
How, with the Franciscan hood
Cowled, I said, there was a bare way.
In the minster there I found it—
Our revenge. I saw him, wild,
Stalking towards the church: around it
Dogged him, marking how he smiled
In the moonlight where I waited.
When the great clock, beating, dialed
Ten, I knew he would be mated.
Our revenge. I saw him, wild,
Stalking towards the church: around it
470
In the moonlight where I waited.
When the great clock, beating, dialed
Ten, I knew he would be mated.
Heaven or my better devil!—
Hardly had his sword and plume
Vanished in the dark, when, level
On the long lagoon, did loom,
Under moonlight-woven arches,
Her slim gondola: all gloom:
One tall gondolier: no torches.
Hardly had his sword and plume
Vanished in the dark, when, level
On the long lagoon, did loom,
Under moonlight-woven arches,
Her slim gondola: all gloom:
One tall gondolier: no torches.
Dusky gondolas kept bringing
Revellers: and far the night
Rang with instruments and singing.—
From the imbricated light
Of the oar-vibrating water,
Gliding up the stairway, white,
Velvet-masked,—the count's own daughter!
Revellers: and far the night
Rang with instruments and singing.—
From the imbricated light
Of the oar-vibrating water,
Gliding up the stairway, white,
Velvet-masked,—the count's own daughter!
Quick I met her: whispered, “Flora,
Gaston.—Mia, till they go,
One brief moment here, Siora.—
She'll perceive us—she, below,
See! the duchess' diamonds sparkling
Round the inviolable glow
Of her throat—there, dimly darkling:
Gaston.—Mia, till they go,
One brief moment here, Siora.—
She'll perceive us—she, below,
See! the duchess' diamonds sparkling
Round the inviolable glow
Of her throat—there, dimly darkling:
471
“That's Viola!” ... Thus I drew her
In the church's ancient pile—
Under her black mask I knew her,
By her chin, her lips, her smile.
Through one marble-foliated
Window fell the moon-rays. While
All the maskers passed we waited.
In the church's ancient pile—
Under her black mask I knew her,
By her chin, her lips, her smile.
Through one marble-foliated
Window fell the moon-rays. While
All the maskers passed we waited.
I had drawn the dagger. Turning
Called her by her name. Some lie
Of a passion sighed, her burning
Hand in mine; when, stalking by,
In the square, his form bejeweled
Gleamed. My very blood burned dry
With the hate his presence fueled.
Called her by her name. Some lie
Of a passion sighed, her burning
Hand in mine; when, stalking by,
In the square, his form bejeweled
Gleamed. My very blood burned dry
With the hate his presence fueled.
Our revenge! up-pushing slightly
Cowl, the mask fell, and revealed
Balka, as the poniard whitely
Flashed. The hollow nave re-pealed
One long shriek the loft repeated.
Swift, I stabbed her thrice. She reeled
Dead. I thought of you, the heated
Cowl, the mask fell, and revealed
Balka, as the poniard whitely
Flashed. The hollow nave re-pealed
One long shriek the loft repeated.
Swift, I stabbed her thrice. She reeled
Dead. I thought of you, the heated
Horror on my hands; and tarried
Still as silence. Drawn aside
On her face the mask hung, married
To its camphor-pallor: wide
Eyes with terror—stone. One second
I regretted; then defied
All remorse. Your promise beckoned;
Still as silence. Drawn aside
On her face the mask hung, married
472
Eyes with terror—stone. One second
I regretted; then defied
All remorse. Your promise beckoned;
And I left her. Love had pointed
Me this way. I walked the way
Clear-eyed and ... it has anointed
Us fast lovers?—Do not say,
Now, that you will go and nun it!
For this man who scorned you?—Nay!—
Live to hate him! You've begun it.
Me this way. I walked the way
Clear-eyed and ... it has anointed
Us fast lovers?—Do not say,
Now, that you will go and nun it!
For this man who scorned you?—Nay!—
Live to hate him! You've begun it.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |