The Flowers of Evil Part 2

I should have loved--erewhile when Heaven conceived Each day, some child abnormal and obscene, Beside a maiden giantess to have lived, Like a luxurious cat at the feet of a queen;

To see her body flowering with her soul, And grow, unchained, in awe-inspiring art, Within the mists across her eyes that stole To divine the fires entombed within her heart.

And oft to scramble o'er her mighty limbs, And climb the slopes of her enormous knees, Or in summer when the scorching sunlight streams

Across the country, to recline at ease, And slumber in the shadow of her breast Like an hamlet 'neath the mountain-crest.

Hymn to Beauty

O Beauty! dost thou generate from Heaven or from h.e.l.l?

Within thy glance, so diabolic and divine, Confusedly both wickedness and goodness dwell, And hence one might compare thee unto sparkling wine.

Thy look containeth both the dawn and sunset stars, Thy perfumes, as upon a sultry night exhale, Thy kiss a philter, and thy mouth a Grecian vase, That renders heroes cowardly and infants hale.

Yea, art thou from the planets, or the fiery womb?

The demon follows in thy train, with magic fraught, Thou scatter'st seeds haphazardly of joy and doom, Thou govern'st everything, but answer'st unto nought.

O Loveliness! thou spurnest corpses with delight, Among thy jewels, Horror hath such charms for thee, And Murder 'mid thy mostly cherished trinklets bright, Upon thy ma.s.sive bosom dances amorously.

The blinded, fluttering moth towards the candle flies, Then frizzles, falls, and falters--"Blessings unto thee"-- The panting swain that o'er his beauteous mistress sighs, Seems like the Sick, that stroke their gravestones lovingly.

What matter, if thou comest from the Heavens or h.e.l.l, O Beauty, frightful ghoul, ingenuous and obscure!

So long thine eyes, thy smile, to me the way can tell Towards that Infinite I love, but never saw.

From G.o.d or Satan? Angel, Mermaid, Proserpine?

What matter if thou makest--blithe, voluptuous sprite-- With rhythms, perfumes, visions--O mine only queen!-- The universe less hideous and the hours less trite.

Exotic Perfume

When, with closed eyes, on a hot afternoon, The scent of thine ardent breast I inhale, Celestial vistas my spirit a.s.sail; Caressed by the flames of an endless sun.

A langorous island, where Nature abounds With exotic trees and luscious fruit; And with men whose bodies are slim and astute, And with women whose frankness delights and astounds.

By thy perfume enticed to this region remote, A port I see, laden with mast and with boat, Still wearied and torn by the distant brine;

While the tamarisk-odours that dreamily throng The air, round my slumberous senses intwine, And mix, in my soul, with the mariners' song.

La Chevelure

O fleece, that foams down unto the shoulders bare!

O curls, O scents which lovely languidness exhale!

Delight! to fill this alcove's sombre atmosphere With memories, sleeping deep within this tress of hair, I'll wave it in the evening breezes like a veil!

The sh.o.r.es of Africa, and Asia's burning skies, A world forgotten, distant, nearly dead and spent, Within thy depths, O aromatic forest! lies.

And like to spirits floating unto melodies, Mine own, Beloved! glides within thy sacred scent.

There I will hasten, where the trees and humankind With languor lull beside the hot and silent sea; Strong tresses bear me, be to me the waves and wind!

Within thy fragrance lies a dazzling dream confined Of sails and masts and flames--O lake of ebony!

A loudly echoing harbour, where my soul may hold To quaff, the silver cup of colours, scents and sounds, Wherein the vessels glide upon a sea of gold, And stretch their mighty arms, the glory to enfold Of virgin skies, where never-ending heat abounds.

I'll plunge my brow, enamoured with voluptuousness Within this darkling ocean of infinitude, Until my subtle spirit, which thy waves caress, Shall find you once again, O fertile weariness; Unending lullabye of perfumed la.s.situde!

Ye tresses blue--recess of strange and sombre shades, Ye make the azure of the starry Realm immense; Upon the downy beeches, by your curls' cascades, Among your mingling fragrances, my spirit wades To cull the musk and cocoa-nut and lotus scents.

Long--foraye--my hand, within thy heavy mane, Shall scatter rubies, pearls, sapphires eternally, And thus my soul's desire for thee shall never wane; For art not thou the oasis where I dream and drain With draughts profound, the golden wine of memory?

Sonnet XXVIII

With pearly robes that wave within the wind, Even when she walks, she seems to dance, Like swaying serpents round those wands entwined Which fakirs ware in rhythmic elegance.

So like the desert's Blue, and the sands remote, Both, deaf to mortal suffering and to strife, Or like the sea-weeds 'neath the waves that float, Indifferently she moulds her budding life.

Her polished eyes are made of minerals bright, And in her mien, symbolical and cold, Wherein an angel mingles with a sphinx of old,

Where all is gold, and steel, and gems, and light, There shines, just like a useless star eternally, The sterile woman's frigid majesty.

Posthumous Remorse

Ah, when thou shalt slumber, my darkling love, Beneath a black marble-made statuette, And when thou'lt have nought for thy house or alcove, But a cavernous den and a damp oubliette.

When the tomb-stone, oppressing thy timorous breast, And thy hips drooping sweetly with listless decay, The pulse and desires of mine heart shall arrest, And thy feet from pursuing their adventurous way,

Then the grave, that dark friend of my limitless dreams (For the grave ever readeth the poet aright), Amid those long nights, which no slumber redeems

'Twill query--"What use to thee, incomplete spright That thou ne'er hast unfathomed the tears of the dead"?-- Then the worms will gnaw deep at thy body, like Dread.