Confess? Why, yes, if I must, I must.
Now good Sant' Andrea be my trust!
But fill me first, from that crystal flask,
Strong wine to strengthen me for my task.
(That thing is a gem of craftsmanship:
Just mark how its curvings fit the lip.)
Ah, you, in your dreamy, tranquil life,
How can you fathom the rage and strife,
The blinding envy, the burning smart,
That, worm-like, gnaws the Maestro's heart