And who would not willingly linger
With you, O Signora, who twirled
Round the tip of your white little finger
Staid clerics and men of the world!
Commanding the spells of a Circe;
Bewitching, though crippled and lame;
Redeeming your malice with mercy
And playing the game.
The clergy—Tractarian, Erastian,
Low Churchmen—you faithfully paint