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 | The Germ, Issue #4: Art and Poetry: Being Thoughts towards Nature |  |
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"Angelica rescued from the Sea-monster," by Ingres; in the Luxembourg.
A remote sky, prolonged to the sea's brim:One rock-point standing buffetted alone,
Vexed at its base with a foul beast unknown,
Hell-spurge of geomaunt and teraphim:
A knight, and a winged creature bearing him,
Reared at the rock: a woman fettered there,
Leaning into the hollow with loose hair
And throat let back and heartsick trail of limb.
The sky is harsh, and sea shrewd and salt.
Under his lord, the griffin-horse ramps blind
With rigid wings and tail. The spear's lithe stem
Thrills in the roaring of those jaws: behind,
The evil length of body chafes at fault.
She doth not hear nor see—she knows of them.
The same.
Clench thine eyes now,—'tis the last instant, girl:Draw in thy senses, set thy knees, and take
One breath for all: thy life is keen awake,—
Thou may'st not swoon. Was that the scattered whirl
Of its foam drenched thee?—or the waves that curl
And split, bleak spray wherein thy temples ache?—
Or was it his the champion's blood to flake
Thy flesh?—Or thine own blood's anointing, girl?....
....Now, silence; for the sea's is such a sound
As irks not silence; and except the sea,
All is now still. Now the dead thing doth cease
To writhe, and drifts. He turn to her: and she
Cast from the jaws of Death, remains there, bound,
Again a woman in her nakedness.
| The Germ, Issue #4: Art and Poetry: Being Thoughts towards Nature | |