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The Immortal Lure   By: (1872-1943)

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THE IMMORTAL LURE

THE IMMORTAL LURE

BY CALE YOUNG RICE

AUTHOR OF A NIGHT IN AVIGNON, YOLANDA OF CYPRUS, CHARLES DI TOCCA, DAVID, MANY GODS, NOWANA DAYS, ETC.

GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY MCMXI

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY CALE YOUNG RICE PUBLISHED, FEBRUARY, 1911

THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK

infinite passion and pain Of finite hearts that yearn

CONTENTS

PAGE

GIORGIONE 1

ARDUIN 27

O UMÈ'S GODS 51

THE IMMORTAL LURE 73

GIORGIONE

CHARACTERS

GIORGIONE A Young Painter ARETINO A Dissolute Poet TITIAN Another Painter BELLINI The Former Master of Giorgione and Titian GIGIA An old woman serving Giorgione and ISOTTA

GIORGIONE

SCENE: A work room of GIORGIONE on the edge of the Lagoon in which lie the Campo Santo and Murano. It is littered with brushes, canvases, casts, etc., and its walls are frescoed indiscriminately with saints and bacchantes, satyrs and Madonnas, on backgrounds religious or woodland. A door is on the right back; and foliate Gothic windows, in the rear, reveal the magic water with its gliding gondolas. On a support toward the centre of the room is a picture covered, and not far from it, a couch.

Late Afternoon.

GIORGIONE, who has been sitting anguished on the couch, rises with determined bitterness. As he does so, BELLINI enters anxiously.

Bellini. Giorgione!

Giorgione ( turning ). It is you?

Bellini. Your word came to me, In San Lazzario where I labored late, And shakes my troubled heart. You will not do this!

Giorgione. Yes!

Bellini. How my son! her picture! as a wanton's!

Giorgione. Tho it has been till now my adoration! The fairest of my dreams and the most holy! Yes, by the virtue of all honest women, If such there be in Venice, I swear it shall be borne by ribald hands Thro the very streets.

Bellini. My son!

Giorgione. A public thing!

[ Points to picture.

Fit for the most lascivious! who now Shall gaze on what I had beheld alone, On what was purer to me than the Virgin! The very pimps and panders of the Piazza Shall if they will whet appetite upon it, And smack their losel lips.

Bellini. And to what end?

Giorgione. Her shame!

Bellini. The deeds of wounded pride and love Work not so, but fall back upon the doer Or on some other.

Giorgione. I care not!

Bellini. Nor have, Ever, to heed me! as Aretino, Who turns your praise to Titian, has told. For your wild will runs ever without curb, And I who reared you, as my very own, Must pay the fall.

Giorgione. No!

Bellini. And the piety I would have won you to in the past days Is wasted. The Madonnas I painted with a heart inspired of Heaven You paint with pride.

Giorgione. But with all gratitude! Ah yes, believe me, And with a rich remembrance! For scarce oblivion could wipe from me How as a wasted lad I came to Venice A miserable, patched and pallid waif, With but an eye to see and hand to shape! You took me from the streets and taught me all The old can teach the young, until my name Is high in Venice Linked with that of Beauty "Giorgione! our Giorgione!" do they cry On the canals, the very gondoliers. And in a little while it should have glowed Immortal on the breast of Italy, As does Apelles on the page of Greece, For I was half divine, until

Bellini. Until A girl whom you had fixed your heart upon With boundless folly, you who should have lived With but one passion that of brain and brush Until she

Giorgione... Continue reading book >>




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