A Night in Avignon

Petrarca (torn). As I found!
After my heart became a poison flame —
Within me!
A fierce inquisitor against my peace!
After I followed her from Santa Clara,
That mass-hour,
To an escutcheoned door!
After and not before … And such another's!
Ugo di Sade's!
A beast whose sullen mind two thoughts would drain;
Whose breath is a poltroon's;
Who is unkind… I've seen her weep; who loves
Her not… And yet the fane of song I frame her,
The love I burn on it, she laughs away.
To hide her own?.. I will not so believe.
Gherardo. Nor should you.
Petrarca. Yet you bid me quarry still
The deeps of me to shrine her?
And be Avignon's laughter?
A mock, a titter on the tongue of geese
That gad the city gates?
A type of fools that sigh while others kiss?
"Francesco Petrarca!
Who never clasped his mistress – but in a sonnet!
Who fills empty canzone with his passion —
But never her ears!
Never! – though she was wed against her will
To an unlettered boor out bartering —
One whom she well could leave!"…
I'll not, Gherardo!.. Sonnets?

(Tears several from desk.)

Vain, all!..

(Casts them away.)

But Lello comes! and brings me Sancia!
Filippa! merry Filippa and Sancia!
We'll drink! – wine of Rocella!
Wine of the Rhine! Bielna! San Porciano! —
And kiss!

(Throws back his head.)

Kiss with the lips of life and not of …

(A knell has begun to beat from the church without. He hears it, and, awed, sinks, crossing himself, to the couch.)

(Gherardo, exalted, shudders.)

Gherardo. It is the knell of Matteo Banista,
Whose soul is gone for its licentious days
Upon steep purgatory.

(Prepares to go.)

Your sin be on you … and it will.
Petrarca (fearful). No!.. no!

(Starts up.)

But hear, Gherardo, hear!

(His words come stifled.)

There in the cloister have you peace – in prayer?
In visions – penances?..
Swear that you have! swear to me! once!.. but once!
And I…! …
No, never!.. never!

(He wipes his brow.)

While we are in the world the world's in us.
The Holy Church I own —
Confess her Heaven's queen;
But we are flesh and all things that are fair
God made us to enjoy —
Or, high in Paradise, we'll know but sorrow.
You though would ban earth's beauty,
Even the torch of Glory
That kindled Italy once and led great Greece —
The torch of Plato, Homer, Virgil, all
The sacred bards and sages, pagan-born!
I love them! they are divine!
And so to-night…! …

(Voices.)

They! it is Lello! Lello! Sancia! —

(Hears a lute and laughter below, then a call, "Sing, Sancia"; then Sancia singing:)

To the maids of Saint Rèmy
All the gallants go for pleasure;
To the maids of Saint Rèmy —
Tripping to love's measure!
To the dames of Avignon
All the masters go for wiving;