PROLOGUE. 
vii 
 
 
 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
OBSESSION. 
 
TO CHARLES BAUDELAIRE. 
 
“ Car ce que ta bouche cruelle 
 Eparpille en l’air, 
Monstre assassin, c’est ma cervelle, 
 Mon sang et ma chair ! ” 
 
 
HY brazen forehead, and its lustre gloom, 
 Great angel of Night’s legion-chosen chief, 
Beam on me like the hideous-fronted tomb, 
 Whereon are graven strange words of misbelief ; 
Thy brazen forehead, and its lustre gloom. 
 
Sinister eyes, you burn into my breast, 
 Creating an infernal cavern of woe, 
Where strange sleek leopards lash them in unrest, 
 And furtive serpents crawling to and fro— 
Sinister eyes, you burn into my breast !   
 
All hell, all destinies of death are written 
 Like litanies blaspheming in those eyes ; 
And where the lightning of high God hath smitten, 
 Lie the charred brands of monstrous infamies, 
Wherein all destinies of death are written. 
  T