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Page 1 of 11905 · PDF PAGE 56
TRANSLATIONS FROM BAUDELAIRE 5I Who knowest all, of under earth the king, Familiar healer of man’s suffering ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! Who to the leper, even the cursed pariah, Hast taught by love the taste of heavenly fire ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! Thou who on Death, thine old and strong leman, Begottest Hope—a charming madwoman ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! Who knowest in which caves of envious lands God has hid precious stones with jealous hands ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! Thou whose clea…
1905 · PDF PAGE 34
… CHRISTMAS 1897 THE Virgin lies at Bethlehem. (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh !) The root of David shoots a stem. (O Holy Spirit, pity her !) She lies alone amid the kine. (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh !) The straw is fragrant as with wine. (O Holy Spirit, pity her !) Mine host protects an honest roof. (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh !) His spouse sniffs loud and holds aloof. (O Holy Spirit, pity her !) The Angel has not come again. (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh !) Why did God deal her out such pain ? (O Holy Spi…
1905 · PDF PAGE 57
…NSLATIONS FROM BAUDELAIRE Who taught frail man, to make his suffering lighter, Consoling, to mix sulphur with salt nitre ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! O subtle complice, who as blatant Beast Brandest vile Crœsus, him that pities least ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! Who in girls’ eyes and hearts implantest deep Lust for the wound, the twain that wound bids weep ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! Staff of the exiled, the inventor’s spark, Confessor of hanged men and plotters dark ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery !…
1905 · PDF PAGE 35
…THE NATIVITY Joseph drinks deep outside the inn. (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh !) She is half hated by her kin. (O Holy Spirit, pity her !) The agony increases fast. (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh !) Each spasm is a holocaust. (O Holy Spirit, pity her !) There are three kings upon the road. (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh !) She hath thrice cursed the name of God. (O Holy Spirit, pity her !) There stands her star above the sky. (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh !) She hath thrice prayed that she may die. (O Holy Spi…
1905 · PDF PAGE 55
… Heaven’s Lord ! THE LITANY OF SATAN O thou, of Angels fairest and most wise, God by Fate’s treachery shorn of liturgies ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! O Prince of Exile, Sufferer of wrong, Whose vengeance, conquered, rises triply strong ! O Satan, have pity of my long misery !
1905 · PDF PAGE 32
“ ’TIS PITY—” 27 Fails to us speech In Love’s exultant leaping ! Each merged in each The golden fruit is reaping ! . . . . . . . Wilt slumber, dear ? One last kiss, I beseech ! . . . . . . . Come to us, Death ! My love and I are sleeping !
1905 · PDF PAGE 155
…s graves Arise again to make us slaves. Arise, O God, and stand, and smite For Ireland’s wrong, for Ireland’s right ! Our Lady, stay the pitying tear ! There is no room for pity here ! What pity knew the Saxon e’er ? Arise, O God, and slay nor spare, Until full vengeance rightly wrought Bring all their house of wrong to nought ! Scorn, the catastrophe of crime, These be their monuments through time ! And Ireland, green once more and fresh, Draw life from their dissolving flesh ! By Saxon carcases renewed, Spring up, O shamrock virgin-hued ! And…
1905 · PDF PAGE 31
“ ’TIS PITY—” —FORD. BLOW on the flame ! The charcoal’s vaporous fume Shall hide our shame ! Come, love, within the gloom ! For one last night, sweet sister, be the same ; Come, nestle with me in sweet Death’s hot womb ! Two sunny eyes ! And this is all my ruin ! Two gleaming thighs ! And all to my undoing ! Far-swelling curves in ivory rapture rise Warm and too white—bethink you of the wooing ! A kiss of fire ; A touch of passionate yearning Steals higher and higher— And kisses are returning ! The strong white grasp draws me still nigher and n…
1905 · PDF PAGE 29
…star ; Mars, like the fire ! Fiercer our lips engage ; Limbs, eyes, ears gather rage ; Sharp grows desire. Hear thy short bitter cries ? Pity thine agonies ? Loose, though love tire ? Nay, neither hear nor spare ; Frenzy shall mock at prayer ; Torture’s red torch shall flare Till thou expire. IV Stars stud a cloudless sky ; Moon silvers blue ; Breeze is content to die ; Lightly falls dew.
1905 · PDF PAGE 4
…LF-SOVEREIGN I5 ADAPTATION OF “ ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS ” TO THE NEEDS OF BRETHREN I8 ODE TO SAPPHO 2 I IN A LESBIAN MEADOW 23 “ ’ TIS PITY ” 26 MY WIFE DIES 28 ALL NIGHT 3 I ODE TO VENUS CALLIPYGE 35 THE BLOOD-LOTUS 40 TRANSLATIONS FROM BAUDELAIRE 49 INVOCATION 6 I A LITANY 69 CALL OF THE SYLPHS 72 CHALDEAN FOOLS 73 HERMIT’S HYMN TO SOLITUDE 74 THE STORM 79 HYMN TO APOLLO 83 vii
1905 · PDF PAGE 164
…man without change or joy or date I await thy oracle as the Delphian stone’s ! So thou to me : best lover of . . . Thou who art love and pity and clean art, Wearing a rosebud on thy blood-bright heart, A lily on thy brows ; I comprehend Thy mystic utterance : read its rune aright : For . . . , love ; for Aleister, delight. * So the schoolboy : Nemo sapit omnibus horis—no one is safe in an omnibus with ladies. 159
1905 · PDF PAGE 61
…price paid to gain them ease, The heavens therewith are not yet satiated. III Jesus ! recall Gethsemane afresh, Where thy simplicity his pity sought Who in his heaven heard, and mocked for nought, Coarse hangmen pierce with nails thy living flesh. IV When on thy godhead spat the virulence Of scum of soldiery and kitchen-knaves ; When thou didst feel the thorns pierce bloody graves Within thy brain where Manhood burnt intense ; V When thy bruised broken body’s horrid weight Racked thy stretched arms, that sweat and blood enow Coursed down the ma…
1905 · PDF PAGE 82
…For never hath fallen as dew thy word, Nor is thy shape shewed, nor as Wisdom’s heard Thy crying about the city In the house where is no pity, But in the desolate halls and lonely vales of sand :
1905 · PDF PAGE 64
… “ Let us at leisure view this caricature, This shade of Hamlet mimicking his posture, The doubting look and hair flung wide to wind ! A pity, eh ? to see this merry hind, This beggar, actor out of work, this droll, Because he plays artistically his rôle, Wishing to interest in his chanted woes Brooks, eagles, crickets, every flower that blows, And even to us the rubric old who made To howl out publicly his wild tirad ? ” I could have (for my pride is mountains high, And dominates cloud tops or demon’s cry)— I could have simply turned my sovere…