The Flowers of Evil Part 7

Obsession

Great forests, you alarm me like a mighty fane; Like organ-tones you roar, and in our hearts of stone, Where ancient sobs vibrate, O halls of endless pain!

The answering echoes of your "De Profundis" moan.

I hate thee, Ocean! hate thy tumults and thy throbs, My spirit finds them in himself. This bitter glee Of vanquished mortals, full of insults and of sobs, I hear it in the mighteous laughter of the sea.

O starless night! thy loveliness my soul inhales, Without those starry rays which speak a language known, For I desire the dark, the naked and the lone.

But e'en those darknesses themselves to me are veils, Where live--and, by the millions 'neath my eyelids prance, Long, long departed Beings with familiar glance.

Magnetic Horror

"Beneath this sky, so livid and strange, Tormented like thy destiny, What thoughts within thy spirit range Themselves?--O libertine reply."

--With vain desires, for ever torn Towards the uncertain, and the vast, And yet, like Ovid--I'll not mourn-- Who from his Roman Heaven was cast.

O heavens, turbulent as the streams, In you I mirror forth my pride!

Your clouds, which clad in mourning, glide,

Are the hea.r.s.es of my dreams, And in your illusion lies the h.e.l.l, Wherein my heart delights to dwell.

The Lid

Where'er he may rove, upon sea or on land, 'Neath a fiery sky or a pallid sun, Be he Christian or one of Cythera's band, Opulent Croesus or beggar--'tis one,

Whether citizen, peasant or vagabond he, Be his little brain active or dull. Everywhere, Man feels the terror of mystery, And looks upon high with a glance full of fear.

The Heaven above, that oppressive wall; A ceiling lit up in some lewd music hall, Where the actors step forth on a blood-red soil;

The eremite's hope, and the dread of the sot, The Sky; that black lid of a mighty pot, Where, vast and minute, human Races boil.

Bertha's Eyes

The loveliest eyes you can scorn with your wondrous glow: O! beautiful childish eyes there abounds in your light, A something unspeakably tender and good as the night: O! eyes! over me your enchanting darkness let flow.

Large eyes of my child! O Arcana profoundly adored!

Ye resemble so closely those caves in the magical creek; Where within the deep slumbering shade of some petrified peak, There shines, undiscovered, the gems of a dazzling h.o.a.rd.

My child has got eyes so profound and so dark and so vast, Like thee! oh unending Night, and thy mystical shine: Their flames are those thoughts that with Love and with Faith combine, And sparkle deep down in the depths so alluring or chaste.

The Set of the Romantic Sun

How beauteous the sun as it rises supreme, Like an explosion that greets us from above, Oh, happy is he that can hail with love, Its decline, more glorious far, than a dream.

I saw flower, furrow, and brook.... I recall How they swooned like a tremulous heart 'neath the sun, Let us haste to the sky-line, 'tis late, let us run, At least to catch one slanting ray ere it fall.

But the G.o.d, who eludes me, I chase all in vain, The night, irresistible, plants its domain, Black mists and vague shivers of death it forbodes;

While an odour of graves through the darkness spreads, And on the swamp's margin, my timid foot treads Upon slimy snails, and on unseen toads.

Meditation

Be wise, O my Woe, seek thy grievance to drown, Thou didst call for the night, and behold it is here, An atmosphere sombre, envelopes the town, To some bringing peace and to others a care.

Whilst the manifold souls of the vile mult.i.tude, 'Neath the lash of enjoyment, that merciless sway, Go plucking remorse from the menial brood, From them far, O my grief, hold my hand, come this way.

Behold how they beckon, those years, long expired, From Heaven, in faded apparel attired, How Regret, smiling, foams on the waters like yeast;

Its arches of slumber the dying sun spreads, And like a long winding-sheet dragged to the East, Oh, hearken Beloved, how the Night softly treads!

To a Pa.s.ser-by

Around me thundered the deafening noise of the street, In mourning apparel, portraying majestic distress, With queenly fingers, just lifting the hem of her dress, A stately woman pa.s.sed by with hurrying feet.

Agile and n.o.ble, with limbs of perfect poise, Ah, how I drank, thrilled through like a Being insane, In her look, a dark sky, from whence springs forth the hurricane, There lay but the sweetness that charms, and the joy that destroys.

A flash--then the night.... O loveliness fugitive!

Whose glance has so suddenly caused me again to live, Shall I not see you again till this life is o'er!

Elsewhere, far away ... too late, perhaps never more, For I know not whither you fly, nor you, where I go, O soul that I would have loved, and _that_ you know!