Collected Works (Vol. III)

SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS 123 OCTAVE MIRBEAU. BRUTAL refinement of deep-seated vice Carves the coarse features in a_ sentient mould. The gardens,! that were soft with flowers and gold And sickening with murder of lust to entice The insane to filthier raptures, carrion spice Of ordure for perfume, bloom there, fixed bold By the calm of the Master, god-like to behold The horror with firm chisel and glance of ice. Ay! and the petty and the sordid soul, A servile whore’s deformed debauchery,? Grins from the image. Let posterity From Rodin’s art guess Mirbeau’s heart, extol The lethal chamber men ere then will find For the pimp’s pen and the corrupted mind. 1 Le jardin des supplices, Octave Mirbeau. 2 Les mémoires d'une femme de chambre, par Octave Mirbeau, par SOCRATE. (L>HOMME AU NEZ CASSE.) CONSUMMATE beauty built of ugliness, O broken-nose philosopher, is thine. Diamonds are deepest in the blue-mud mine ; So is the secret of thy strong success Demonic-glittering through the wear and stress Of tortured feature ; virtue’s soul doth shine, Genius and wisdom in the force divine That fills thy face; magnificence ! no less. Ay! thou shalt drink the hemlock; thou shalt suffer And die for self-respect, for love of others! To-day are men indissolubly brothers? Is my life smoother than the Greek’s or rougher ? The Greek at least shall stead me in my craft. Crucify Crowley! Nay, my friends! the draught. COLOPHON. INCIDENT. (RUE DE L'UNIVERSITE, 182.) SPELL-BOUND we Sat: the vivid violin Wailed, pleaded, waited, triumphed. Kingly note By note imperial from its passionate throat Vibrates : the shadows fall like pauses in The workshop of the Master: where there spin Phrases in marble : fancies fall or float, Passions exult, despairs abound, loves dote, Thoughts gallop or abide: and prayer is sin. Spell-bound we sat: one, young, eagerly moves. One sits in thought: one listens, dreams, and loves. One, critical, approves with conscious nod. But I abode without the spell; saw these— Diverse harmonics of identical keys !— And these were thus: but Rodin heard like God,