Giovanni Punto, born Jan Vaclav Stich
At Tetschen, now Zehusice, in 1746,
Belonged to Wenzel Joseph, Graf von Thun,
But ran away when he was twenty to have a life
of his own.
He was a hornplayer, the best in his day,
Best ever perhaps. Mozart wrote him K
279b, the Sinfonia Concertante, and Beethoven
The Horn Sonata, Opus 17.
Count Wenzel Joseph though was furious
For he had put money where Jan's mouth was.
Sent him to master, the best, in Prague, Munich
and Dresden
Now he put money on Giovanni's head.
The ungrateful little swine is mine, he said,
What he produces is my property,
Every silver note. You bring him back to me
Or knock his front teeth out. Of this poor man,
Perhaps not one of the best of the von Thun clan
But who for all I know was kind to animals,
Feared God and listening to music in his soul's
Best part had once or twice been shown
Love, freedom, joy, nothing is known
Except his dates and in between the two
That thing he sent his bully-boys to do.
Easy to imagine Giovanni Punto
On a cloud in heaven playing the silver cor solo
Made for him in Paris by Joseph Raoux, the best,
And poor Graf Wenzel Joseph in distress
Sending to Father Abraham for one note
Of the waters of that horn to cool his throat,
Tongue, lips, and being told there is
Between a soul in torment and a soul in bliss
A great gulf fixed. I hope instead
He served his time in purgatory before he was dead --
At nights, dreaming it done, the worst, dreaming
it carried out
And woke, and wept for gratitude that it was not.
Wenzel was dead. Jan Vaclav Stich went home
King, through a multitude. His turn come,
He had himself sent off with Mozart's Requiem,
Mercy enough in it for both of them.
Sent to us by Peter Witt, who found it in The New Republic.