TRANSLATIONS FROM BAUDELAIRE 57 
 
VI 
 
Dreamedst thou then of those triumphant hours 
When, that the eternal promise might abide, 
Thy steed a mild she-ass, thou once didst ride 
On roads o’erstrewn with branches and fresh flowers ; 
 
VII 
 
When, thy heart beating high with hope and pride, 
Thou didst whip out those merchants vile with force, 
At last the master ?  Did not keen remorse 
Bite thy soul ere the spear had pierced thy side ? 
 
VIII 
 
I, certes, I shall gladly quit this hell 
Where dream and action walk not hand-in-hand ! 
May I use the brand and perish by the brand ! 
Saint Peter denied Jesus—He did well. 
 
 
GLOIRE ET LOUANGE 
 
GLORY and praise to thee, O Satan, in the height 
Of Heaven, where thou didst rule, and in the night 
Of Hell, where conquered, dost dream silently ! 
Grant that one day my soul ’neath Knowledge-Tree 
Rest near thine own soul, when from thy forehead 
Like a new temple all its branches spread.