Born four years past Vivaldi’s death, you shared
his sense for composing and ospedale
life. Admired for the violin, you dared
to challenge those superior men. Sailed
to London after studying under
Tartini and wedding Lodovico,
romping with your cicisbeo, plundered
Europe’s praise, playing your own concertos
for two decades. Later you wooed Paris
and St. Petersburg with your voice; some say
you failed. Still, you knew just how to caress
assets, storing wealth till Austria preyed
on Venice, driving the lira crazy.
You died poor, held by your lover Terzi.
Roger Armbrust
February 7, 2008
