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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A NOCTURNE AT DANIELI'S by OWEN SEAMAN

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;
@3Caro mio, Pulcinello@1, 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 @3vaporetti@1 cease to vex the still lagoon;

When the final @3trovatore@1, singing something old and cheap,
Hurls his @3tremolo crescendo@1 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 @3their@1 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 — '@3elle et lui'@1 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 — @3Ecco l'alba!@1 Ha! (in other words) the Dawn!



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