Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A NOCTURNE AT DANIELI'S, by OWEN SEAMAN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A NOCTURNE AT DANIELI'S, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Caro mio, pulcinello, kindly hear my wail of woe
Last Line: There's the sea! And — ecco l'alba! Ha! (in other words) the dawn!
Subject(s): Browning, Robert (1812-1889); Poetry & Poets


Caro mio, Pulcinello, kindly hear my wail of woe
Lifted from a noble structure — late Palazzo Dandolo.

This is Venice, you will gather, which is full of precious 'stones',
Tintorettos, picture-postcards, and remains of doges' bones.

Not of these am I complaining; they are mostly seen by day,
And they only try your patience in an inoffensive way.

But at night, when over Lido rises Dian (that's the moon),
And the vicious vaporetti cease to vex the still lagoon;

When the final trovatore, singing something old and cheap,
Hurls his tremolo crescendo full against my beauty sleep;

When I hear the Riva's loungers in debate beneath my bower
Summing up (about 1.30) certain questions of the hour;

Then across my nervous system falls the shrill mosquito's boom,
And it's 'O, to be in England', where the may is on the bloom.

I admit the power of Music to inflate the savage breast —
There are songs devoid of language which are quite among the best —

But the present orchestration, with its poignant oboe part,
Is, in my obscure opinion, barely fit to rank as Art.

Will it solace me to-morrow, being bit in either eye,
To be told that this is nothing to the season in July?

Shall I go for help to Ruskin? Would it ease my pimply brow
If I found the doges suffered much as I am suffering now?

If identical probosces pinked the lovers who were bored
By the sentimental tinkling of Galuppi's clavichord?

That's from Browning (Robert Browning) — I have left his works at home,
And the poem I allude to isn't in the Tauchnitz tome;

But, if memory serves me rightly, he was very much concerned
At the thought that in the sequel Venice reaped what Venice earned.

Was he thinking of mosquitoes? Did he mean their poisoned crop?
Was it through ammonia tincture that 'the kissing had to stop'?

As for later loves — for Venice never quite mislaid her spell —
Madame Sand and dear De Musset occupied my own hotel!

On the very floor below me, I have heard the patron say,
They were put in No. 13 (No. 36, to-day).

But they parted — 'elle et lui' did — and it now occurs to me
That mosquitoes came between them in this 'kingdom by the sea'.

Poor dead lovers, and such brains, too! What am I that I should swear
When the creatures munch my forehead, taking more than I can spare?

Should I live to meet the morning, should the climate readjust
Any reparable fragments left upon my outer crust,

Why, at least I still am extant, and a dog that sees the sun
Has the pull of Danieli's den of 'lions', dead and done.

Courage! I will keep my vigil on the balcony till day
Like a knight in full pyjamas who would rather run away.

Courage! let me ope the casement, let the shutters be withdrawn;
Let sirocco, breathing on me, check a tendency to yawn;
There's the sea! and — Ecco l'alba! Ha! (in other words) the Dawn!





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