The Winged Beetle

222 LE BEAU NAVIRE Challenging shields, with rosy bosses starred ! Wardrobe of tender secrets, filled with nard, Wines, scents, liqueurs, a Comus train Fit to intoxicate man’s heart and brain. Sweeping the air with that broad skirt, to me Is imaged some tall ship that puts to sea With canvas spread, that treads a measure Of love-in idleness and peace-with-pleasure ! Strong limbs that toss aside their tented veil Brew acrid draughts of madness, darkly male, Like two black witch-women that turn And stir some ghastly philtre in their urn. Thine arms—could strangle a young Hercules !— Rival and beat the python’s strength-in-ease ; Made to crush—obstinately sure To print him in thine heart, thy paramour ! On shining shoulder and soft rounded throat Thy posed head sways—strange grace of melilote ! With a triumphant air and mild Thou passest on thy way, majestic child !