Part 7 (2/2)

The eyes were holes; the belly opened wide Streaming its heavy entrails on the thighs; The grim birds, gorged with dreadful delicacies, Had dug and furrowed it on every side.

Beneath the blackened feet there strove and pressed A herd of jealous beasts with upward snout, And in the midst of these there turned about One, the chief hangman, larger than the rest....

Lone Cytherean! now all silently Thou sufferest these insults to atone For those old infamous sins that thou hast known, The sins that locked the gate o' the grave to thee.

Mine are thy sorrows, ludicrous corse; yea, all Are mine! I stood thy swaying limbs beneath, And, like a bitter vomit, to my teeth There rose old shadows in a stream of gall.

O thou unhappy devil, I felt afresh, Gazing at thee, the beaks and jaws of those Black savage panthers and those ruthless crows, Who loved of old to macerate my flesh.

The sea was calm, the sky without a cloud; Henceforth for me all things that came to pa.s.s Were blood and darkness,--round my heart, alas!

There clung that allegory, like a shroud.

Naught save mine image on a gibbet thrust Found I on Venus island desolate....

Ah, G.o.d! the courage and strength to contemplate My body and my heart without disgust.

THE CRACKED BELL

'Tis bitter-sweet, when winter nights are long, To watch, beside the flames which smoke and twist, The distant memories which slowly throng, Brought by the chime soft-singing through the mist.

Happy the st.u.r.dy, vigorous-throated bell Who, spite of age alert and confident, Cries hourly, like some strong old sentinel Flinging the ready challenge from his tent.

For me, my soul is cracked; when sick with care, She strives with songs to people the cold air It happens often that her feeble cries

Mock the harsh rattle of a man who lies Wounded, forgotten, 'neath a mound of slain And dies, pinned fast, writhing his limbs in pain.

THE OFFENDED MOON

O moon, O lamp of hill and secret dale!

Thou whom our fathers, ages out of mind, Wors.h.i.+pped in thy blue heaven, whilst behind Thy stars streamed after thee a glittering trail,

Dost see the poet, weary-eyed and pale, Or lovers on their happy beds reclined, Showing white teeth in sleep, or vipers twined, 'Neath the dry sward; or in a golden veil

Stealest thou with faint footfall o'er the gra.s.s As of old, to kiss from twilight unto dawn The faded charms of thine Endymion?...

”O child of this sick century, I see Thy grey-haired mother leering in her gla.s.s And plastering the breast that suckled thee!”

TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE,

<script>