The Winged Beetle

216 TOUT ENTIÈRE THE Devil is my lofty vault This morning came to talk with me. And (ever trying to find fault) Said “ I should like to know, pardie ! “ Of all the beauties that compose The enchantment of her darling breath, The black seductions and the rose Wherewith her body glittereth, “ Which is the sweetest ? ” O my soul ! Thus didst thou answer the Accurst : “ In her, since all’s divine control, There cannot be or last or first. “ Since all transports me, how shall I Aught of one thing affirm aright ? She dazzles like the morning sky And soothes my spirit like the night. “ Too exquisite the music is That all her lovely shape affords For impotent analysis To mark how every bar accords.