The title poem in Anthony Hecht’s 1979 collection The Venetian Vespers is a dramatic monologue spoken by an aging American expatriate living in Venice. Across its roughly eight-hundred lines the speaker gives the impression of fleeing something left unstated – not a scandal or crime but his unsatisfactory self. In the sixth and final section he writes: “Ho fatto un fiasco, which is to say, / I’ve made a sort of bottle of my life, / A frangible and transparent failure.” The Italian can be translated: “I made a complete mess of it.” This indulgence in self-disgust continues:
“My efforts at their best
are negatives:
A poor attempt not to hurt
anyone,
A goal which, in the very
nature of things,
Is ludicrous because
impossible.
Viscid, contaminate,
dynastic wastes
Flood through the dark
canals, the underpasses,
Ducts and arterial sluices
of my body . . .”
Here, Hecht makes an
inspired transition:
“. . . As through those
gutters of which Swift once wrote:
‘Sweepings from Butcher
Stalls, Dung, Guts, and Blood,
Drown’d Puppies, stinking
Sprats, all drench’d in Mud,
Dead Cats and Turnip-Tops
come tumbling down the Flood.’”
Those are the concluding
lines of “A Description of a City Shower,” a pastoral parody and my favorite
among all of Swift’s poems, first published in The Tatler in October
1710. Pat Rogers in his edition of The Complete Poems (Yale University
Press, 1983) tells us it was also Swift’s favorite. The final three rhyming lines are inspired. An early edition of the
poem was subtitled an “imitation of Virgil’s Georg[ics].” Nearly as good as the
passage quoted by Hecht are the lines leading up to them:
“Now from all parts the
swelling kennels flow,
And bear their trophies
with them as they go:
Filth of all hues and
odors seem to tell
What street they sailed
from, by their sight and smell.
They, as each torrent
drives with rapid force,
From Smithfield or St.
Pulchre’s shape their course,
And in huge confluence
joined at Snow Hill ridge,
Fall from the conduit
prone to Holborn Bridge.”
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