The Poems and Prose Poems of Charles Baudelaire Part 4

When Juan sought the subterranean flood.

And paid his obolus on the Stygian sh.o.r.e.

Charon, the proud and sombre beggar, stood With one strong, vengeful hand on either oar.

With open robes and bodies agonised, Lost women writhed beneath that darkling sky; There were sounds as of victims sacrificed: Behind him all the dark was one long cry.

And Sganarelle, with laughter, claimed his pledge; Don Luis, with trembling finger in the air, Showed to the souls who wandered in the sedge The evil son who scorned his h.o.a.ry hair.

Shivering with woe, chaste Elvira the while, Near him untrue to all but her till now, Seemed to beseech him for one farewell smile Lit with the sweetness of the first soft vow.

And clad in armour, a tall man of stone Held firm the helm, and clove the gloomy flood; But, staring at the vessel's track alone, Bent on his sword the unmoved hero stood.

THE LIVING FLAME.

They pa.s.s before me, these Eyes full of light, Eyes made magnetic by some angel wise; The holy brothers pa.s.s before my sight, And cast their diamond fires in my dim eyes.

They keep me from all sin and error grave, They set me in the path whence Beauty came; They are my servants, and I am their slave, And all my soul obeys the living flame.

Beautiful Eyes that gleam with mystic light As candles lighted at full noon; the sun Dims not your flame phantastical and bright.

You sing the dawn; they celebrate life done; Marching you chaunt my soul's awakening hymn, Stars that no sun has ever made grow dim!

CORRESPONDENCES.

In Nature's temple living pillars rise, And words are murmured none have understood.

And man must wander through a tangled wood Of symbols watching him with friendly eyes.

As long-drawn echoes heard far-off and dim Mingle to one deep sound and fade away; Vast as the night and brilliant as the day, Colour and sound and perfume speak to him.

Some perfumes are as fragrant as a child, Sweet as the sound of hautboys, meadow-green; Others, corrupted, rich, exultant, wild,

Have all the expansion of things infinite: As amber, incense, musk, and benzoin, Which sing the sense's and the soul's delight.

THE FLASK.

There are some powerful odours that can pa.s.s Out of the stoppered flagon; even gla.s.s To them is porous. Oft when some old box Brought from the East is opened and the locks And hinges creak and cry; or in a press In some deserted house, where the sharp stress Of odours old and dusty fills the brain; An ancient flask is brought to light again, And forth the ghosts of long-dead odours creep.

There, softly trembling in the shadows, sleep A thousand thoughts, funereal chrysalides, Phantoms of old the folding darkness hides, Who make faint flutterings as their wings unfold, Rose-washed and azure-tinted, shot with gold.

A memory that brings languor flutters here: The fainting eyelids droop, and giddy Fear Thrusts with both hands the soul towards the pit Where, like a Lazarus from his winding-sheet, Arises from the gulf of sleep a ghost Of an old pa.s.sion, long since loved and lost.

So I, when vanished from man's memory Deep in some dark and sombre chest I lie.

An empty flagon they have cast aside, Broken and soiled, the dust upon my pride, Will be your shroud, beloved pestilence!

The witness of your might and virulence, Sweet poison mixed by angels; bitter cup Of life and death my heart has drunken up!

REVERSIBILITY.

Angel of gaiety, have you tasted grief?

Shame and remorse and sobs and weary spite, And the vague terrors of the fearful night That crush the heart up like a crumpled leaf?

Angel of gaiety, have you tasted grief?

Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate?

With hands clenched in the shade and tears of gall, When Vengeance beats her h.e.l.lish battle-call, And makes herself the captain of our fate, Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate?

Angel of health, did ever you know pain, Which like an exile trails his tired footfalls The cold length of the white infirmary walls, With lips compressed, seeking the sun in vain?

Angel of health, did ever you know pain?

Angel of beauty, do you wrinkles know?

Know you the fear of age, the torment vile Of reading secret horror in the smile Of eyes your eyes have loved since long ago?

Angel of beauty, do you wrinkles know?

Angel of happiness, and joy, and light, Old David would have asked for youth afresh From the pure touch of your enchanted flesh; I but implore your prayers to aid my plight, Angel of happiness, and joy, and light.

THE EYES OF BEAUTY.

You are a sky of autumn, pale and rose; But all the sea of sadness in my blood Surges, and ebbing, leaves my lips morose, Salt with the memory of the bitter flood.

In vain your hand glides my faint bosom o'er, That which you seek, beloved, is desecrate By woman's tooth and talon; ah, no more Seek in me for a heart which those dogs ate.

It is a ruin where the jackals rest, And rend and tear and glut themselves and slay-- A perfume swims about your naked breast!

Beauty, hard scourge of spirits, have your way!

With flame-like eyes that at bright feasts have flared Burn up these tatters that the beasts have spared!

SONNET OF AUTUMN.