I am the Lord.”
The loud-voiced choir would drown in song
The voice of God; their music woke
Echoes through chancel weird and long –
In thunder and fierce fire and smoke
Jehovah spoke.
“On with the farce! My perjured priests,
The wolves that raven through my flock,
Nay, wolves in shepard’s garb, wild beasts
That fang and tear my lambs, and mock
At Judah’s stock.
“On with the grim foul farce! Black hell
Gapes to receive all actors there.
Play on its brink! What soul can tell
But I, your God, may be as air,
A children’s snare?
“But I am here, I will not heed,
I will not give more signs; But I
Will come with heavy hand and deed
And give men knowledge ere they die
How their priests lie.
“A gospel marred, a bastard creed,
A dogma out of hell ye teach!
False shepards, ye shall learn your meed;
Not as waves breaking on the beach
My wrath shall reach!
“I forget not – heed not my cry,
Play out the farce, wed fast the twain! –
Red judgement and black death draw nigh,
Your blasphemies shall all be vain,
And your souls slain.
“Vipers! on him my mercy falls
Perchance, at last, in heaven; but ye
I will sepulchre in black walls
Of Hell, burn up and hide from me
’Neath the blind sea!
“Vipers! eternal fire shall quench
Your prayers and curses, hell shall hold
The vapourous vomit of your stench
Wrung from foul souls, no longer bold
But cowed and cold.
“Vipers! his fooly I will heal,
Your sin I will not put away;
My Christ is vain for you; appeal
In vain to his shed blood; nor pray
I will not slay.
“I will most utterly destroy
Your souls from off the earth; your power
Sealed by your Satan I will cloy
With subtle strength; your church shall flower
No further hour.
“Because ye set your hands to this,
Blaspheming nature and my name,
Cemented the unholy kiss
Of barren age’s fruitless shame
Your hell shall flame
“Seven times more hot, that ye may know
My paths shall be most surely trod,
That I who answer thus, who show
Myself in wielding sword and rod,
Am high Lord God!”
Silent the voice, and through the nave
And chancel droned the choir; the sun
Darkened, as Satan’s perjured slave,
The priest, in blessing, made them one.
The Deed was done.
A BALLAD OF CHOOSING
Love brought a garland to my feet today
Offering to crown my head withal, and said:
“The year is young, it is the time of May,
Autumn is distant, and the winter, dead.”
And would therewith my brows have garlanded
But that I asked him “Is not this a fire
To burn the scorched brain through
my maddened head?
Thou has a guerdon, is it not for hire?”
Fame brought a golden crown, bejewelled o’er
With precious rubies beyond price, and cried
“The world is young, thy name shall evermore
Ring in men’s ears, stately and glorified.”
But I, with shuddering lips, to him replied
“Fame is the aramanth that fools desire
My soul’s price is beyond thy jewel’s pride
Thou has a guerdon, is it not for hire?”
“Wealth brought to me a purse, whose glancing gold
Mocked the sun’s rays, grown dull as iron rust,
And pressed it in my hand, saying ‘Behold
The corner-stone of fame, the means of lust’
And I in thee I put but little trust
Shameful, most vile, accursed of God’s ire,
Dross of the dunghill’s most detested dust,
Thou has a guerdon, is it not for hire?”
Christ came to me, alone and sorrowful,
And offered me a cross, saying to me,
“I have great joys to give most bountiful.
Carry this through the world, and when the sea
Of death is past, then is prepared for thee
A house of many mansions.” My desire
Hid not from me the vileness of his plea:
“Thou has a guerdon, is it not for hire?”
ENVOI
Prince of the air, thou offerest nought to me
I serve thee, recompensed of hell-fire,
More nobly than these others, verily
Since none with impious word may mock at thee
“Thou has a guerdon, is it not for hire?”
A JEALOUS LOVER
I
I have an idol wrought of stainless gold
Before whose feet I bow, in whose delight
I am content to live, whose spells of might
Are smiles that gleam, are tears that glisten cold
On the fair cheek that blushes if I praise;
Are warm ripe kisses in the softer hours
When love is perfect blossom of sweet flowers,
Are shadowed glances of pure lovelight rays
From clear blue eyes, are wonderful caresses
When love is golden autumn of sweet fruit.
What other worship can usurp my days
When I may lie amid her sunny tresses
Enraptured by the music of her lute
One long calm love, one heart’s delight always?
2
Bright spheres of heaven, firefly gleams, fair ghosts
Laugh lightly to the silver globe of night
That glitters on green fields, and on the sea
Ripples break foamless, where the golden coasts
Echo their mellow cadence. Such delight
Is on me I would fain sigh into sleep
Until my love comes forth to dream with me
Of silent words of love and peopled stars
Where we may live and love and never weep
Nor yet be weary. The last ruby bars
Are sunk beneath the sea. The shadows creep
More on me as I quicken with desire
My love is all of gold, my faith is deep
Lit with my heart’s imperishable fire.
3
Pale spectres of the stars, corpse-lights, bad-ghosts
Sicken the icy glamour of the moon
Upon the vacant earth; and where the sea
Marshals sepulchral billows, obscene hosts
Of harpies gibber weirdly. I should swoon
For the silence, rolled not some dread minstrelsy
In fearful anguish on the shuddering air,
Breathing out terror and lightning to the night
That wildly echoes back Hell’s venomous spite,
And shrieks aloud the watchword of despair
To draw each painracked nerve more tense and gray
For I am alone, unloved, in murk and gloom,
Unloved, unfriended, fittest for the tomb,
; Who worshipped golden feet and found them clay.
4
She creeps alive upon the tawny sands,
False glittering woman, girt about with lies!
She steals toward me, the tigress sleek and fierce!
Destroying devil, with long sinuous hands
And hate triumphant in blue-murderous eyes!
I nerve myself to spring upon and pierce
With maddening fangs those firm white bosom towers,
To tear those lithe voluptuous limbs apart
And glut my ravening soul with vengeance. Heart
Quickens as she draws near; the scent of flowers
Breathes round her damned presence. Shall she live
To triumph with those tainted lips of song –
She whispered “Dearest, I have kept thee long.”
I flung myself before her, “Love, forgive!”
BALLADE DE LA JOLIE MARION
It is a sweet thing to be loved,
Although my sighs in absence wake,
Although my saddening heart is moved,
I smile and bear for love’s dear sake.
My songs their wonted music make,
Joyous and careless, songs of youth,
Because the sacred lips of both
Are met to kiss the last good-bye,
Because sweet glances weep for ruth
That we must part, and love must die.
Remembrance of love’s long delights
Is to remember sighs and tears,
Yet I will think upon the nights
I whispered into passionate ears
The fond desires, the sweet faint fears.
My lover’s limbs of lissome white
Gleamed in the darkness and strange light,
The wondrous orbs voluptuously
Bent on me all unearthly bright:
But we must part, and love must die.
Fond limbs with mine were intertwined,
A hand lascivious fondled me;
My ears grew deaf, my eyes grew blind,
My tongue was hot from kisses free,
Short madness, and we lazily
Lolled back upon the bed of fire.
I was a-weary – her desire
Drew her upon me – Marion, fie!
You work our pleasure till I tire:
But we must part, and love must die.
Nor thus did love’s embraces wane,
Though lusty limbs grow idle quite;
Our mouths’ red valves are over-fain
To suck the sweetness from the night;
And amorously, with touches light,
Steal passion from reluctant pain.
So has the daystar fled again
Before the blushes of the sky,
So did I clasp thy knees in vain:
For we must part, and love must die.
You say another’s sensuous lips
Shall open to my kisses there:
When weary, steal those luscious sips;
Another’s hands play in my hair
And find delight for me to bare
The bosom, and the passionate mound
White and, for Venus’ temple, round,
A garden of wild thyme whose eye
My sword shall pierce, and never wound:
For we must part, and love must die.
You say – but Oh! my Marion’s kiss
Shall linger on my palate still,
No joy on earth is like to this
That we have tasted to our fill
Of all our sweet lascivious will.
The cup is drained of lust’s delight,
Yet wells with pleasure, and by night
I’ll come once more and loving lie
Between thine amorous limbs, despite
That we must part, and love must die.
ENVOI
Thus, sweet, I’ll sing when day doth break
And weary lovers must awake
To part, but now our pleasure take
In one last bout of rivalry,
Whose passions first shall answer make
To the dances that the curtains shake
Till we must part, and love must die.
AT STOCKHOLM
We could not speak, although the sudden glow
Of passion mantling to the crimson cheek
Of either, told our tale of love, although
We could not speak.
What need of language, barren and false and bleak,
While our white arms could link each other so,
And fond red lips their partners mutely seek?
What time for language, when our kisses flow
Eloquent, warm, as words are cold and weak? –
Or now – Ah! sweetheart, even were it so,
We could not speak!
MATHILDE
O large lips opening outward like a flower
To breathe upon my face that clings to thee!
O wanton breasts that heave deliciously
And tempt my eager teeth! Oh cruel power
Of wide deep thighs that make me furious
As they enclasp me and swing to and fro
With passion that grows pale and drives the flow
Of the fast fragrant blood of both of us
Into the awful link that knits us close
With chain electric! O have mercy yet
In drawing out my life in this desire
To consummate this moment all the gross
Lusts of tonight, and pay the sudden debt
That with strong water shall put out our fire!
YET TIME TO TURN
Brighter than snow on glittering Alps, the soul
Of my lost love was, bluer than the haze
Of those same hills, more violent and deep
Her eyes’ clear gaze,
Dreaming of hidden wonders; and the goal
Of life grew luminous o’er Time’s empurpled steep
She loved me then; she loves me now, afar.
Ah, she knew not! and I, so steeped and stained
With fierce sins, knew myself unworthy of
The heart I gained,
And, a lost mariner whose polar star
He is ashamed to look to, cast away her love.
I would not have her love a thing so vile,
I would not link her life with such as mine!
0 cursed sin, to leave my soul too high
To cheat the shrine!
I drave Love forth, Love lingered yet awhile
So that I might not quite win Hell before I die.
O little root of nobleness left thus
Dead since it has no power to grow, to bloom;
Live, since I may not bury it within
The gaping tomb
Where virtue lies, that I, imperious,
Long since interred with hope, all life’s joy save sin.
ALL NIGHT
All night no change, no whisper. Scarce a breath
But lips closed hard upon the cup of death
To drain its sweetest poison. Scarce a sigh
Beats the dead hours out; scarce a melody
Of measured pulses quickened with the blood
Of that desire which pours its deadly flood
Through soul and shaken body; scarce a thought
But sense through spirit most divinely wrought
To perfect feeling; only through the lips
Electric ardour kindles, flashes, slips
Through all the circle to her lips again
And thence, unwavering, flies to mine, to drain
All pleasure in one dr
aught. No whispered sigh,
No change of breast, love’s posture perfectly
Once gained, we change no more.
The fever grows Hotter or cooler, as the night wind blows
Fresh gusts of passion on the outer gate.
But we, in waves of frenzy, concentrate
Our thirsty mouths on that hot drinking cup
Whence we may never suck the nectar up
Too often or too hard; fresh fire invades
Our furious veins, and the unquiet shades
Of night make noises in the darkened room.
Yet, did I raise my head, throughout the gloom
I might behold thine eyes as red as fire,
A tigress maddened with supreme desire.
White arms that clasp me, fervent breast that glides
An eager snake, about my breast and sides,
And white teeth keen to bite, red tongue that tires,
And lips ensanguine with unfed desires,
Hot breath and hands, dishevelled hair and head,
Thy fevered mouth like snakes’ mouths crimson red,
A very beast of prey; and I like thee,
Fiery, unweary, as thou art of me.
But raise no head; I know thee, breast and thigh,
Lips, hair and eyes and mouth: I will not die
But thou come with me o’er the gate of death.
So, blood and body furious with breath
That pants through foaming kisses, let us stay
Gripped hard together to keep life away,
Mouths drowned in murder, never satiate,
Kissing away the hard decrees of Fate,
Kissing insatiable in mad desire
Kisses whose agony may never tire,
Kissing the gates of hell, the sword of God,
Each unto each a serpent or a rod,
A well of wine and fire, each unto each,
Whose lips are fain convulsively to reach
A higher heaven, a deeper hell. Ah! Day
So soon to dawn, delight to snatch away!
Damned day, whose sunlight finds us as with wine
Drunken, with lust made manifest divine
Devils of darkness, servants unto hell –
Yea, king and queen of Sheol, terrible
Above all fiends and furies, hating more
The high Jehovah, loving Baal Peor,
Our father and our lover and our god!
Yea, though he lift his adamantine rod
And pierce us through, how shall his anger tame
Fire that glows fiercer for the brand of shame
Diary of a Drug Fiend Page 81