But creating only devils,
And his statues all bore traces
Of his older brother's features.
Soon he took to wildest pleasures,
Fought with drunkards, fought at duels,
Drugged himself with wines of fire;
Just perhaps to drown the snake that
Gnawed him with eternal torment.
And at length, fatigued and ailing
He came to this very island,
Where the Johannitic convent
Let him mend the aged statues
Standing in the refectory.
With his soul fatigued, tormented
By its passion and rebellion,
With the last strength of his spirit
He imbued the Satan's statue
As he struggles in a battle
With St. Michael, the archangel. . . .
And these features were a wonder.
But its masterful creator
Lived not long. . . . Paid daily visit
To behold his last creation,
Stood before it meditating,
Wept aloud for hours . . . hours . . .
Then he vanished . . . soon, however,
65
