Collected Works (Vol. I)

ACELDAMA 5 And lose ourselves, together, far above . The highest heaven, in one sweet lover’s kiss, So sweet, so strong, That with it all my soul should unto him belong. XXIV. An ecstasy to which no life respends, Is the enormous secret I have learned : When self-denial’s furnace- flame has burned Through love, and all the agonising bonds That hold the soul within its shell are turned ‘To water weak ; ‘hen may desires obtain the cypress crown they seek. XXV. Browning attained, I think, when Evelyn Hope Gave no response to his requickening kiss ; In the brief moment when exceeding bliss Joined to her sweet passed soul his soul, its scope Grew infinite for ever. Profane desire I too may join my song unto his quenchless quire. So in this XXXVI. When Hallam died, did Tennyson attain When his warm kisses drew no answering sigh From that poor corpse corrupted utterly, When four diverse sweet dews exude to stain With chaste foul fervour the cold canopy? Proud Reason’s sheath He cast away; the sword of Madness flames beneath ! XXVII. Read his mad rhymes; their sickening savour taste ; Bathe in their carnal and depraving stream : Rise, glittering with the dew-drops of his dream, And glow with exaltation ; to thy waist Gird his gold belt; the diamond settings gleam With fire drawn far Through the blue shuddering vault from some amazing star. XXVIII. Aubrey! attained in sleep when he dreamt this Wonderful dream of women, tender child And harlot, naked all, in thousands piled On one hot writhing heap, his shameful kiss To shudder through them, with lithe limbs defiled To wade, to dip Down through the mass, caressed by every purple lip. XAILX. Choked with their reek and fume and bitter Sweat His body perishes ; his life is drained; The last sweet drop of nectar has not stained Another life; his lips and limbs are wet With death-dews! Ha! The painter has attained As high a meed As his who first begot sweet music on a reed. XXX, And O! my music is so poor and thin! I am poor Marsyas?; where shall I find A wise Olympas and a lover kind To teach my mouth to sing some secret sin, Faint, fierce, and horrible; to tune my mind, And on a reed Better beloved to bid me discourse at his need P 1 Aubrey Beardsley. The dream is au- thentic. 2 Marsyas, a Satyr, inventor of the pastoral flute; Olympas, his favourite pupil. It will be Seen that the names are carelessly transposed.