120 
LA JUIVE 
 
The low dark hill, the storm, the star 
That lit my bestial lupanar ! 
 
Her breasts are Golgotha to me ! 
Her lips, his dripping hands and feet ! 
Her secret-cinctured armoury 
Of pleasures seems—how utter sweet !— 
The gaping spear-wound in his side 
Wherein I smote the Crucified ! 
 
Come, night !  dip, shadows !  Only let 
One incense-flame burn red and low, 
Regild the golden coronet, 
Gleam on her nude lewd hips, and glow 
On hours of weariless desire, 
A bastard and infernal fire. 
 
Smite me, my fiend-fair whore, nor spare 
My raging hips, but wake again 
The old desires ere I’m aware, 
Joy more intense from cruel pain : 
They say he hoped his crown to fix 
By his delirious crucifix. 
 
Yes, spare me not, red-lipped, low browed, 
Large-featured animal I love :