An Epic of Women and Other Poems By Arthur W. E. O'Shaughnessy |
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| IV. |
| V. | V.THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS. |
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 | An Epic of Women and Other Poems |  |
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V.THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS.
MY heart is heavy for each goodly man
Whom crownéd woman or sweet courtezan
Hath slain or brought to greater shames than death.
But now, O Daughter of Herodias!
I weep for him, of whom the story saith,
Thou didst procure his bitter fate :—Alas,
He seems so fair !—May thy curse never pass!
Whom crownéd woman or sweet courtezan
Hath slain or brought to greater shames than death.
But now, O Daughter of Herodias!
I weep for him, of whom the story saith,
Thou didst procure his bitter fate :—Alas,
He seems so fair !—May thy curse never pass!
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Where art thou writhing? Herod's palace-floor
Has fallen through: there shalt thou dance no more;
And Herod is a worm now. In thy place,
—Salome, Viper !—do thy coils yet keep
That woman's flesh they bore with such a grace?
Have thine eyes still the love-lure hidden deep,
The ornament of tears, they could not weep?
Has fallen through: there shalt thou dance no more;
And Herod is a worm now. In thy place,
—Salome, Viper !—do thy coils yet keep
That woman's flesh they bore with such a grace?
Have thine eyes still the love-lure hidden deep,
The ornament of tears, they could not weep?
Thou wast quite perfect in the splendid guile
Of woman's beauty; thou hadst the whole smile
That can dishonour heroes, and recal
Fair saints prepared for heaven back to hell:
And He, whose unlived glory thou mad'st fall
All beautiful and spotless, at thy spell,
Was great and fit for thee by whom he fell.
Of woman's beauty; thou hadst the whole smile
That can dishonour heroes, and recal
Fair saints prepared for heaven back to hell:
And He, whose unlived glory thou mad'st fall
All beautiful and spotless, at thy spell,
Was great and fit for thee by whom he fell.
O, is it now sufficing sweet to thee—
Through all the long uncounted years that see
The undistinguished lost ones waste away—
To twine thee, biting, on those locks that bleed,
As bled they through thy fingers on that day?
Or hast thou, all unhallowed, some fierce need
Thy soul on his anointed grace to feed?
Through all the long uncounted years that see
The undistinguished lost ones waste away—
To twine thee, biting, on those locks that bleed,
As bled they through thy fingers on that day?
Or hast thou, all unhallowed, some fierce need
Thy soul on his anointed grace to feed?
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Or hast thou, rather, for that serpent's task
Thou didst accomplish in thy woman-mask,
Some perfect inconceivable reward
Of serpent's slimy pleasure ?—all the thing
Thou didst beseech thy master, who is Lord
Of those accursèd hosts that creep and sting,
To give thee for the spoil thou shouldest bring?
Thou didst accomplish in thy woman-mask,
Some perfect inconceivable reward
Of serpent's slimy pleasure ?—all the thing
Thou didst beseech thy master, who is Lord
Of those accursèd hosts that creep and sting,
To give thee for the spoil thou shouldest bring?
He was a goodly spoil for thee to win!
—Men's souls and lives were wholly dark with sin;
And so God's world was changed with wars and gold,
No part of it was holy; save, maybe,
The desert and the ocean as of old:—
But such a spotless way of life had he,
His soul was as the desert or the sea.
—Men's souls and lives were wholly dark with sin;
And so God's world was changed with wars and gold,
No part of it was holy; save, maybe,
The desert and the ocean as of old:—
But such a spotless way of life had he,
His soul was as the desert or the sea.
I think he had not heard of the far towns;
Nor of the deeds of men, nor of kings' crowns;
Before the thought of God took hold of him,
As he was sitting dreaming in the calm
Of one first noon, upon the desert's rim,
Beneath the tall fair shadows of the palm,
All overcome with some strange inward balm.
Nor of the deeds of men, nor of kings' crowns;
Before the thought of God took hold of him,
As he was sitting dreaming in the calm
Of one first noon, upon the desert's rim,
Beneath the tall fair shadows of the palm,
All overcome with some strange inward balm.
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But then, so wonderful and lovely seemed
That thought, he straight became as though he dreamed
A vast thing false and fair, which day and night
Absorbed him in some rapture—very high
Above the common swayings of delight
And general yearnings, that quite occupy
Men's passions, and suffice them till they die:
That thought, he straight became as though he dreamed
A vast thing false and fair, which day and night
Absorbed him in some rapture—very high
Above the common swayings of delight
And general yearnings, that quite occupy
Men's passions, and suffice them till they die:
Yea, soon as it had entered him—that thought
Of God—he felt that he was being wrought
All holy: more and more it filled his heart;
And seemed, indeed, a spirit of pure flame
Set burning in his soul's most inward part.
And from the Lord's great wilderness there came
A mighty voice calling on him by name.
Of God—he felt that he was being wrought
All holy: more and more it filled his heart;
And seemed, indeed, a spirit of pure flame
Set burning in his soul's most inward part.
And from the Lord's great wilderness there came
A mighty voice calling on him by name.
He numbered not the changes of the year,
The days, the nights, and he forgot all fear
Of death: each day he thought there should have been
A shining ladder set for him to climb
Athwart some opening in the heavens, e'en
To God's eternity, and see, sublime—
His face whose shadow passing fills all time.
The days, the nights, and he forgot all fear
Of death: each day he thought there should have been
A shining ladder set for him to climb
Athwart some opening in the heavens, e'en
To God's eternity, and see, sublime—
His face whose shadow passing fills all time.
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But he walked through the ancient wilderness.
O, there the prints of feet were numberless
And holy all about him! And quite plain
He saw each spot an angel silvershod
Had lit upon; where Jacob too had lain
The place seemed fresh,—and, bright and lately trod,
A long track showed where Enoch walked with God.
O, there the prints of feet were numberless
And holy all about him! And quite plain
He saw each spot an angel silvershod
Had lit upon; where Jacob too had lain
The place seemed fresh,—and, bright and lately trod,
A long track showed where Enoch walked with God.
And often, while the sacred darkness trailed
Along the mountains smitten and unveiled
By rending lightnings,—over all the noise
Of thunders and the earth that quaked and bowed
From its foundations—he could hear the voice
Of great Elias prophesying loud
To Him whose face was covered by a cloud.
Along the mountains smitten and unveiled
By rending lightnings,—over all the noise
Of thunders and the earth that quaked and bowed
From its foundations—he could hear the voice
Of great Elias prophesying loud
To Him whose face was covered by a cloud.
Already he was shown so perfectly
The awful mystic grace and sanctity
Of all the earth, there was no part his feet
With sandal covering might dare to tread;
Because that in it he was sure to meet
The fair sword-bearing angels, or some dread
Eternal prophet numbered with the dead.
The awful mystic grace and sanctity
Of all the earth, there was no part his feet
With sandal covering might dare to tread;
Because that in it he was sure to meet
The fair sword-bearing angels, or some dread
Eternal prophet numbered with the dead.
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So he believed that he should purify
His body, till the sin of it should die,
And the unfailing spirit and great word
Of One-who is too bright to be beheld,
And in his speech too fearful to be heard
By mortal man—should come down and be held
In him as in those holy ones of eld.
His body, till the sin of it should die,
And the unfailing spirit and great word
Of One-who is too bright to be beheld,
And in his speech too fearful to be heard
By mortal man—should come down and be held
In him as in those holy ones of eld.
And to believe in this was rapture more
Than any that the thought of living bore
To tempt him: so the pleasant days of youth
Were but the days of striving and of prayer;
And all the beauty of those days, forsooth,
He counted as an evil or a snare,
And would have left it in the desert there.
Than any that the thought of living bore
To tempt him: so the pleasant days of youth
Were but the days of striving and of prayer;
And all the beauty of those days, forsooth,
He counted as an evil or a snare,
And would have left it in the desert there.
Ah, spite of all the scourges that had bit
So fiercely his fair body, branding it
With many a painful over-written vow
Of perfect sanctity—what man shall say
How often, weak with groanings, he would bow
Before the angels of the place, and pray
That all his body might consume away?
So fiercely his fair body, branding it
With many a painful over-written vow
Of perfect sanctity—what man shall say
How often, weak with groanings, he would bow
Before the angels of the place, and pray
That all his body might consume away?
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For through whole bitter days it seemed in vain
That all the mighty desert had no stain
Of sin around him; that the burning breaths
Went forth from the eternal One, and rolled
For ever through it, filling it with deaths,
And plagues, and fires; that he did behold
The earthquakes and the wonders manifold:
That all the mighty desert had no stain
Of sin around him; that the burning breaths
Went forth from the eternal One, and rolled
For ever through it, filling it with deaths,
And plagues, and fires; that he did behold
The earthquakes and the wonders manifold:
It seemed in vain that all the place was bright
Ineffably with that unfading light
No man who worketh evil can abide;
That he could see too with his open eyes
Fair troops of deathless ones, and those that died
In martyrdoms, or went up to the skies
In fiery cars—walk there with no disguise ;—
Ineffably with that unfading light
No man who worketh evil can abide;
That he could see too with his open eyes
Fair troops of deathless ones, and those that died
In martyrdoms, or went up to the skies
In fiery cars—walk there with no disguise ;—
It seemed in vain that he was there alone
With no man's sin to tempt him but his own;—
Since in his body he did bear about
A seeming endless sin he could not quell
With the most sharp coercement, nor cast out
Through any might of prayer. O, who can tell—
Save God—how often in despair he fell?
With no man's sin to tempt him but his own;—
Since in his body he did bear about
A seeming endless sin he could not quell
With the most sharp coercement, nor cast out
Through any might of prayer. O, who can tell—
Save God—how often in despair he fell?
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The very stones seemed purer far than he;
And every naked rock and every tree
Looked great and calm, composed in one long thought
Of holiness; each bird and creeping thing
Rejoiced in bearing some bright sign that taught
The legend of an ancient minist'ring
To some fair saint of old there sojourning.
And every naked rock and every tree
Looked great and calm, composed in one long thought
Of holiness; each bird and creeping thing
Rejoiced in bearing some bright sign that taught
The legend of an ancient minist'ring
To some fair saint of old there sojourning.
Yea, all the dumb things and the creatures there
Were grand, and some way sanctified; most fair
The very lions stood, and had no shame
Before the angels; and what time were poured
The floods of the Lord's anger forth, they came
Quite nigh the lightnings of the Mount and roared
Among the roaring thunders of the Lord:
Were grand, and some way sanctified; most fair
The very lions stood, and had no shame
Before the angels; and what time were poured
The floods of the Lord's anger forth, they came
Quite nigh the lightnings of the Mount and roared
Among the roaring thunders of the Lord:
Yet He—while in him day by day, divine,
The clear inspirèd thought went on to shine,
And heaven was opening every radiant door
Upon his spirit—He, in that fair dress
Of weak humanity his senses bore,
Did feel scarce worthy to be there, and less
Than any dweller in the wilderness.
The clear inspirèd thought went on to shine,
And heaven was opening every radiant door
Upon his spirit—He, in that fair dress
Of weak humanity his senses bore,
Did feel scarce worthy to be there, and less
Than any dweller in the wilderness.
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Wherefore his limbs were galled with many a stone;
And often he had wrestled all alone
With their fair beauty, conquering the pride
And various pleasure of them with some quick
And hard inflicted pain that might abide,—
Assailing all the sense with constant prick
Until the lust or pride fell faint and sick.
And often he had wrestled all alone
With their fair beauty, conquering the pride
And various pleasure of them with some quick
And hard inflicted pain that might abide,—
Assailing all the sense with constant prick
Until the lust or pride fell faint and sick.
Natheless there grew and stayed upon his face
The wonderful unconquerable grace
Of a young man made beautiful with love;
Because the thought of God was wholly spread
Like love upon it; and still fair above
All crownèd heads of kings remained his head
Whereon the halo of the Lord was shed.
The wonderful unconquerable grace
Of a young man made beautiful with love;
Because the thought of God was wholly spread
Like love upon it; and still fair above
All crownèd heads of kings remained his head
Whereon the halo of the Lord was shed.
Ah, how long was it, since the first red rush
Of that surpassing thought made his cheek blush
With pleasure, as he sat—a tender child—
And wondered at the desert, and the long
Rough prickly paths that led out to the wild
Where all the men of God, holy and strong,
Had dwelt and purified themselves—how long ?—
Of that surpassing thought made his cheek blush
With pleasure, as he sat—a tender child—
And wondered at the desert, and the long
Rough prickly paths that led out to the wild
Where all the men of God, holy and strong,
Had dwelt and purified themselves—how long ?—
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Before he rose up from his knees one day,
And felt that he was purified as they;
That he had trodden out the sin at last,
And that the light was filling him within?
How many of the months and years had past
Uncounted ?—But the place he was born in
No longer knew him: no man was his kin.
And felt that he was purified as they;
That he had trodden out the sin at last,
And that the light was filling him within?
How many of the months and years had past
Uncounted ?—But the place he was born in
No longer knew him: no man was his kin.
O then it was a most sweet, holy will
That came upon him, making his soul thrill
With joy indeed, and with a perfect trust,—
For he soon thought of men and of the king
All tempted in the world, with gold and lust,
And women there, and every fatal thing,
And none to save their souls from perishing—
That came upon him, making his soul thrill
With joy indeed, and with a perfect trust,—
For he soon thought of men and of the king
All tempted in the world, with gold and lust,
And women there, and every fatal thing,
And none to save their souls from perishing—
And so he vowed that he would go forth straight
From God there in the desert, with the great
Unearthliness upon him, and adjure
The nations of the whole world with his voice;
Until they should resist each pleasant lure
Of gold and woman, and make such a choice
As his, that they might evermore rejoice.
From God there in the desert, with the great
Unearthliness upon him, and adjure
The nations of the whole world with his voice;
Until they should resist each pleasant lure
Of gold and woman, and make such a choice
As his, that they might evermore rejoice.
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Thus beautiful and good was He, at length,
Who came before King Herod in his strength,
And shouted to him with a great command
To purify himself, and put away
That unclean woman set at his right hand;
And after all to bow himself and pray,
And be in terror of the Judgment Day!
Who came before King Herod in his strength,
And shouted to him with a great command
To purify himself, and put away
That unclean woman set at his right hand;
And after all to bow himself and pray,
And be in terror of the Judgment Day!
He never had seen houses like to that
Fair-columned, cedar-builded one where sat
King Herod. Flawless cedar was each beam,
Wrought o'er with flaming brass: along the wall
Great brazen images of beasts did gleam,
With wondrous flower-works and palm trees tall;
And folded purples hung about it all.
Fair-columned, cedar-builded one where sat
King Herod. Flawless cedar was each beam,
Wrought o'er with flaming brass: along the wall
Great brazen images of beasts did gleam,
With wondrous flower-works and palm trees tall;
And folded purples hung about it all.
He never had beheld so many thrones,
As those of ivory and precious stones
Whereon the noble company was raised
About the king:—he never had seen gems
So costly, nor so wonderful as blazéd
Upon their many crowns and diadems,
And trailed upon their garments' trodden hems:
As those of ivory and precious stones
Whereon the noble company was raised
About the king:—he never had seen gems
So costly, nor so wonderful as blazéd
Upon their many crowns and diadems,
And trailed upon their garments' trodden hems:
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But he had seen in mighty Lebanon
The cedars no man's axe hath lit upon;
And he had often worshipped, falling down
In dazzling temples opened straight to him,
Where One who had greatlightnings for His crown
Was suddenly made present, vast and dim
Through crowded pinions of the Cherubim!
The cedars no man's axe hath lit upon;
And he had often worshipped, falling down
In dazzling temples opened straight to him,
Where One who had greatlightnings for His crown
Was suddenly made present, vast and dim
Through crowded pinions of the Cherubim!
Wherefore he had no fear to stand and shout
To all men in the place, and there to flout
Those fair and fearful women who were seen
Quite triumphing in that work of their smile
To shame a goodly king. And he cast, e'en
A sudden awe that undid for a while
The made-up shameless visages of guile.
To all men in the place, and there to flout
Those fair and fearful women who were seen
Quite triumphing in that work of their smile
To shame a goodly king. And he cast, e'en
A sudden awe that undid for a while
The made-up shameless visages of guile.
And when Herodias—that many times
Polluted one, assured now in all crimes
Past fear or turning—when she, her fierce tongue
Thrice forked with indignation, hotly spoke
Quick wild beseeching words, wherewith she clung
To Herod, praying him by some death-stroke
To do her vengeance there before all folk—
Polluted one, assured now in all crimes
Past fear or turning—when she, her fierce tongue
Thrice forked with indignation, hotly spoke
Quick wild beseeching words, wherewith she clung
To Herod, praying him by some death-stroke
To do her vengeance there before all folk—
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Ah, spite of every urging that her hate
Did put into her lips,—so fair and great
Seemed that accuser standing weaponless,
Yet wholly terrible with his bright speech
As 'twere some sword of flaming holiness,
That no man dared to join her and beseech
His death; but dread came somehow upon each.
Did put into her lips,—so fair and great
Seemed that accuser standing weaponless,
Yet wholly terrible with his bright speech
As 'twere some sword of flaming holiness,
That no man dared to join her and beseech
His death; but dread came somehow upon each.
For he was surely terrible to see
So plainly sinless, so divinely free
To judge them; being in a perfect youth,
Yet walking like an angel in a man
Reproving all men with inspired truth.
And Herod himself spoke not, but began
To tremble: through his soul the warning ran.
So plainly sinless, so divinely free
To judge them; being in a perfect youth,
Yet walking like an angel in a man
Reproving all men with inspired truth.
And Herod himself spoke not, but began
To tremble: through his soul the warning ran.
—Then that Salome did put off the shame
Of her mere virgin girlhood, and became
A woman! Then she did at once essay
Her beauty's magic, and unfold the wings
Of her enchanted feet,—to have men say
She slew him—born indeed for wondrous things.
Her dance was fit to ruin saints or kings.
Of her mere virgin girlhood, and became
A woman! Then she did at once essay
Her beauty's magic, and unfold the wings
Of her enchanted feet,—to have men say
She slew him—born indeed for wondrous things.
Her dance was fit to ruin saints or kings.
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O, her new beauty was above all praise!
She came with dancing in shy devious ways,
And while she danced she sang.
Th virgin bandlet of her forehead brake,
Her hair came round her like a shining snake;
To loving her men's hearts within them sprang
The while she danced and sang.
She came with dancing in shy devious ways,
And while she danced she sang.
Th virgin bandlet of her forehead brake,
Her hair came round her like a shining snake;
To loving her men's hearts within them sprang
The while she danced and sang.
Her long black hair danced round her like a snake
Allured to each charmed movement she did make;
Her voice came strangely sweet;
She sang, “O, Herod, wilt thou look on me—
Have I no beauty thy heart cares to see?”
And what her voice did sing her dancing feet
Seemed ever to repeat.
Allured to each charmed movement she did make;
Her voice came strangely sweet;
She sang, “O, Herod, wilt thou look on me—
Have I no beauty thy heart cares to see?”
And what her voice did sing her dancing feet
Seemed ever to repeat.
She sang, “O, Herod, wilt thou look on me?
What sweet I have, I have it all for thee;”
And through the dance and song
She freed and floated on the air her arms
Above dim veils that hid her bosom's charms:
The passion of her singing was so strong
It drew all hearts along.
What sweet I have, I have it all for thee;”
And through the dance and song
She freed and floated on the air her arms
Above dim veils that hid her bosom's charms:
The passion of her singing was so strong
It drew all hearts along.
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Her sweet arms were unfolded on the air,
They seemed like floating flowers the most fair—
White lilies the most choice;
And in the gradual bending of her hand
There lurked a grace that no man could withstand;
Yea, none knew whether hands, or feet, or voice,
Most made his heart rejoice.
They seemed like floating flowers the most fair—
White lilies the most choice;
And in the gradual bending of her hand
There lurked a grace that no man could withstand;
Yea, none knew whether hands, or feet, or voice,
Most made his heart rejoice.
The veils fell round her like thin coiling mists
Shot through by topaz suns, and amethysts,
And rubies she had on;
And out of them her jewelled body came,
And seemed to all quite like a slender flame
That curled and glided, and that burnt and shone
Most fair to look upon.
Shot through by topaz suns, and amethysts,
And rubies she had on;
And out of them her jewelled body came,
And seemed to all quite like a slender flame
That curled and glided, and that burnt and shone
Most fair to look upon.
Then she began, on that well-polished floor,
Whose stones seemed taking radiance more and more
From steps too bright to see,
A certain measure that was like some spell
Of winding magic, wherein heaven and hell
Were joined to lull men's souls eternally
In some mid ecstasy:
Whose stones seemed taking radiance more and more
From steps too bright to see,
A certain measure that was like some spell
Of winding magic, wherein heaven and hell
Were joined to lull men's souls eternally
In some mid ecstasy:
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For it was so inexplicably wrought
Of soft alternate motions, that she taught
Each sweeping supple limb,
And in such intricate and wondrous ways
With bendings of her body, that the praise
Lost breath upon men's lips, and all grew dim
Save her so bright and slim.
Of soft alternate motions, that she taught
Each sweeping supple limb,
And in such intricate and wondrous ways
With bendings of her body, that the praise
Lost breath upon men's lips, and all grew dim
Save her so bright and slim.
And through the swift mesh'd serpents of her hair
That lash'd and leapt on each place white and fair
Of bosom or of arm,
And through the blazing of the numberless
And whirling jewelled fires of her dress,
Her perfect face no passion could disarm
Of its reposeful charm.
That lash'd and leapt on each place white and fair
Of bosom or of arm,
And through the blazing of the numberless
And whirling jewelled fires of her dress,
Her perfect face no passion could disarm
Of its reposeful charm.
Her head oft drooped as in some languid death
Beneath brim tastes of joy, and her rich breath
Heaved faintly from her breast;
Her long eyes, opened fervently and wide,
Did seem with endless rapture to abide
In some fair trance through which the soul possest
Love, ecstasy, and rest.
Beneath brim tastes of joy, and her rich breath
Heaved faintly from her breast;
Her long eyes, opened fervently and wide,
Did seem with endless rapture to abide
In some fair trance through which the soul possest
Love, ecstasy, and rest.
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But lo—while each man fixed his eyes on her,
And was himself quite fillèd with the stir
His heart did make within—
The place was full of devils everywhere:
They came in from the desert and the air;
They came from all the palaces of sin,
And each heart they were in:
And was himself quite fillèd with the stir
His heart did make within—
The place was full of devils everywhere:
They came in from the desert and the air;
They came from all the palaces of sin,
And each heart they were in:
They lurked beneath the purples, and did crawl
Or crouch in unseen corners of the hall,
Among the brass and gold;
They climbed the brazen pillars till they lined
The chamber fair; and one went up behind
The throne of Herod—fearful to behold—
The Serpent king of old.
Or crouch in unseen corners of the hall,
Among the brass and gold;
They climbed the brazen pillars till they lined
The chamber fair; and one went up behind
The throne of Herod—fearful to behold—
The Serpent king of old.
Yea, too, before those blinded men there went
Some even to Salome; and they lent
Strange charms she did not shun.
She stretched her hand forth, and inclined her ear;
She knew those men would neither see nor hear:
A devil did support her head, and one
Her steps' light fabric spun.
Some even to Salome; and they lent
Strange charms she did not shun.
She stretched her hand forth, and inclined her ear;
She knew those men would neither see nor hear:
A devil did support her head, and one
Her steps' light fabric spun.
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O, then her voice with singing all unveiled,
In no trained timid accents, straight assailed
King Herod's open heart:
The amorous supplication wove and wound
Soft deadly sins about it; the words found
Fair traitor thoughts there,—singing snakes did dart
Their poison in each part.
In no trained timid accents, straight assailed
King Herod's open heart:
The amorous supplication wove and wound
Soft deadly sins about it; the words found
Fair traitor thoughts there,—singing snakes did dart
Their poison in each part.
She sang, “O look on me, and look on Love:
We three are here together, and above—
What heaven may there be?
None for thine heart without this spell of mine,
Yea, this my beauty, yea, these limbs that shine
And make thy senses shudder; and for me,
No heaven without thee!
We three are here together, and above—
What heaven may there be?
None for thine heart without this spell of mine,
Yea, this my beauty, yea, these limbs that shine
And make thy senses shudder; and for me,
No heaven without thee!
“O, all the passion in me on this day
Rises into one song to sweep away
The breakers of Love's bond;
For is it not a pleasant bond indeed,
And made of all the flowers in life's mead?
And is not Love a master fair and fond?
And is not Death beyond?
Rises into one song to sweep away
The breakers of Love's bond;
For is it not a pleasant bond indeed,
And made of all the flowers in life's mead?
And is not Love a master fair and fond?
And is not Death beyond?
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“O, who are these that will adjure thee, King,
To put away this tender flower-thing,
This love that is thy bliss?
Dost thou think thou canst live indeed, and dare
The joyless remnant of pale days, the bare
Hard tomb, and feed through cold eternities
Thy heart without one kiss?
To put away this tender flower-thing,
This love that is thy bliss?
Dost thou think thou canst live indeed, and dare
The joyless remnant of pale days, the bare
Hard tomb, and feed through cold eternities
Thy heart without one kiss?
“Dost thou think empty prayers shall glad thy lips
Kept red and living with perpetual sips
Of Love's rich cup of wine?
That thy fair body shall not fall away,
And waste among the worms that bitter day
Thou hast no lover round thy neck to twine
Fond arms like these of mine?
Kept red and living with perpetual sips
Of Love's rich cup of wine?
That thy fair body shall not fall away,
And waste among the worms that bitter day
Thou hast no lover round thy neck to twine
Fond arms like these of mine?
“I say they are no prophets,—very deaths,
And plagues, and rottenness, do use their breaths
Who speak against delight;
Pale distant slayers of humanity
Have tainted them, and sent them forth to try
Weak lures to make man give up joyous right
Of days for empty night.
And plagues, and rottenness, do use their breaths
Who speak against delight;
Pale distant slayers of humanity
Have tainted them, and sent them forth to try
Weak lures to make man give up joyous right
Of days for empty night.
124
“I tell thee, in their wilderness shall be
No herbs enough for food for them and thee,
No rock to give thee drink;
I tell thee, all their heavens are a cheat,
Or but a mirage to betray thy feet,
And draw thee quicker to some grave's dread brink
Where thou shalt fall and sink.
No herbs enough for food for them and thee,
No rock to give thee drink;
I tell thee, all their heavens are a cheat,
Or but a mirage to betray thy feet,
And draw thee quicker to some grave's dread brink
Where thou shalt fall and sink.
“Turn rather unto me, and hear my voice
Against these desert howlings, and rejoice:
Now surely do I crave
To treble this my beauty, and embalm
My words with deathless thrill, singing the psalm
Of pleasure to thee, King,—so I may save
Thy fair days from this grave.
Against these desert howlings, and rejoice:
Now surely do I crave
To treble this my beauty, and embalm
My words with deathless thrill, singing the psalm
Of pleasure to thee, King,—so I may save
Thy fair days from this grave.
“Yea, now of all my beauty will I strive
With these mad prophesiers till I drive
Their ravings from thine ear:
Against their rudeness I will set my grace,
My softness, and the magic of my face;
And spite of all their curses thou shalt hear
And let my voice draw near:
With these mad prophesiers till I drive
Their ravings from thine ear:
Against their rudeness I will set my grace,
My softness, and the magic of my face;
And spite of all their curses thou shalt hear
And let my voice draw near:
125
“Against their loud revilings I will try
The long low-speaking pleadings of my sigh,
All my heart's tender way;
Against their deserts—here, before thine eyes
My love shall open thee a paradise,
Where, if thou comest, thou shalt surely stay
And seek no better way:
The long low-speaking pleadings of my sigh,
All my heart's tender way;
Against their deserts—here, before thine eyes
My love shall open thee a paradise,
Where, if thou comest, thou shalt surely stay
And seek no better way:
“And rather than these haters of thy joy
Should anyhow allure thee to destroy
Thy heart's prosperity,—
O, I will throw my woman's arms entwined
About thy body; ere thy lips can find
One word of yielding, I will kiss them dry:
—And failing, let me die!
Should anyhow allure thee to destroy
Thy heart's prosperity,—
O, I will throw my woman's arms entwined
About thy body; ere thy lips can find
One word of yielding, I will kiss them dry:
—And failing, let me die!
“But look on me, for it is in my soul
To make the measure of thy glory whole—
With many goodly things
To crown thee, yea, with pleasure and with love,
Till there shall scarcely be a name above
King Herod's, in the mouth of one who sings
The fame of mighty kings:
To make the measure of thy glory whole—
With many goodly things
To crown thee, yea, with pleasure and with love,
Till there shall scarcely be a name above
King Herod's, in the mouth of one who sings
The fame of mighty kings:
126
“For see how great and fair a realm is this—
My untried love—the never conquered bliss
All hoarded in my breast;
My beauty and my love were jewels meet
To make the glory of a king complete,
And I,—O thou of kingship half-possest—
Can crown thee with the rest!
My untried love—the never conquered bliss
All hoarded in my breast;
My beauty and my love were jewels meet
To make the glory of a king complete,
And I,—O thou of kingship half-possest—
Can crown thee with the rest!
“I stand before thee—on my head the crown
Of all thou lackest yet in thy renown—
Ah, King, take this of me!
And in my hand I bear a brimming cup
That sparkles; to thine eyes I hold it up:
A royal draught of life-long pleasure—see,
The wine is fit for thee!
Of all thou lackest yet in thy renown—
Ah, King, take this of me!
And in my hand I bear a brimming cup
That sparkles; to thine eyes I hold it up:
A royal draught of life-long pleasure—see,
The wine is fit for thee!
“Ah, wilt thou pass me? Wilt thou let me give
Thy fair life to some meaner man to live?
Nay, here—if I am sweet—
Thou shalt not. I will save thee with the sight
Of all my sweetness, save thee with the might
And charm of all my singing lips' deceit,
Or with my dancing feet.
Thy fair life to some meaner man to live?
Nay, here—if I am sweet—
Thou shalt not. I will save thee with the sight
Of all my sweetness, save thee with the might
And charm of all my singing lips' deceit,
Or with my dancing feet.
127
“I have indeed some power. A lure lies
Within my tender lips—behind my eyes—
Concealed in all my way;
And while I seem entreating, I compel,
Yea, while I do but plead, I use a spell—
Ah secretly—but surely. Who are they
That ever turn away?
Within my tender lips—behind my eyes—
Concealed in all my way;
And while I seem entreating, I compel,
Yea, while I do but plead, I use a spell—
Ah secretly—but surely. Who are they
That ever turn away?
“Now, thou hast barely seen bright glittering
The gilded cup of pleasures that I swing
Before thy reeling gaze,—
The deep beginnings of sweet drunkenness
Are in thy heart already, more or less,
And on thy soul deliciously there preys
A thirst no joy allays.
The gilded cup of pleasures that I swing
Before thy reeling gaze,—
The deep beginnings of sweet drunkenness
Are in thy heart already, more or less,
And on thy soul deliciously there preys
A thirst no joy allays.
“Dost thou not feel, each time my long hair sweeps
The glowing floor, how through thy being creeps
A vague yet sweet desire?—
How writhes in every sense a tiny snake
Of pleasure biting till it seems to wake
A fever of sharp lusts that never tire,
Unquenchable as fire?
The glowing floor, how through thy being creeps
A vague yet sweet desire?—
How writhes in every sense a tiny snake
Of pleasure biting till it seems to wake
A fever of sharp lusts that never tire,
Unquenchable as fire?
128
“Is there not wrought a madness in thy brain
Each time my thin veils part and close again—
Each time their flying ring
Is seen a moment's space encircling me
With filmy changes—each time, rapidly
Rolled down, their cloud-like gauzes billowing
About my limbs they fling?
Each time my thin veils part and close again—
Each time their flying ring
Is seen a moment's space encircling me
With filmy changes—each time, rapidly
Rolled down, their cloud-like gauzes billowing
About my limbs they fling?
“Ah, seek not in this moment some cold will;
Attend to no false pratings that would kill
Thy heart, and make thee fall:
But now a little lean to me, and fear
My charming. Ah, thy fame to me is dear!
Some wound of mine, when me thou couldst not call,
Might slay thee after all.
Attend to no false pratings that would kill
Thy heart, and make thee fall:
But now a little lean to me, and fear
My charming. Ah, thy fame to me is dear!
Some wound of mine, when me thou couldst not call,
Might slay thee after all.
“For even while I sing, the unseen grace
Of Love descending hath filled all this place
With most strong prevalence;
His miracle is raging in the breasts
Of all these men, and mightily he rests
On me and thee. His power is too intense,
No curse shall drive him hence.
Of Love descending hath filled all this place
With most strong prevalence;
His miracle is raging in the breasts
Of all these men, and mightily he rests
On me and thee. His power is too intense,
No curse shall drive him hence.
129
“—O, Love, invisible, eternal God,
In whose delicious ways all men have trod,
This day Thou truly hast
My heart: thy inspiration fills my tongue
With great angelic madness; I have sung
Set words that in my bosom thou hast cast—
Thine am I to the last!
In whose delicious ways all men have trod,
This day Thou truly hast
My heart: thy inspiration fills my tongue
With great angelic madness; I have sung
Set words that in my bosom thou hast cast—
Thine am I to the last!
“My feet are like two liquid flames that leap
For joy at thee; I feel thy spirit sweep—
Yea, like a southern wind—
Through all the enchanted fibres of my soul;
I am a harp o'er which thy vast breaths roll,
And one day thou shalt break me: none shall find
A wreck of me behind.
For joy at thee; I feel thy spirit sweep—
Yea, like a southern wind—
Through all the enchanted fibres of my soul;
I am a harp o'er which thy vast breaths roll,
And one day thou shalt break me: none shall find
A wreck of me behind.
“And now all palpitating, O I pray
Thy utmost passion while I cry—away
With all Love's enemies!
A man—borne up between the closing wings
Of two eternities of unknown things,
May catch this seraph charmer as he flies,
And hold him till he dies;
Thy utmost passion while I cry—away
With all Love's enemies!
A man—borne up between the closing wings
Of two eternities of unknown things,
May catch this seraph charmer as he flies,
And hold him till he dies;
130
“And yet some bitter ones, whom coming night
Hath wholly entered, grudge man this small right
Of joy, and seek to fill
His rushing moment with the monstrous hiss
Of shapeless terrors, poisoning the bliss
Brief nestled in his bosom—merely till
Forced out by its death chill!
Hath wholly entered, grudge man this small right
Of joy, and seek to fill
His rushing moment with the monstrous hiss
Of shapeless terrors, poisoning the bliss
Brief nestled in his bosom—merely till
Forced out by its death chill!
“What voice is this the envious wilderness
Hath sent among us foully to distress
And haunt our lives with fear?
What vulture, shrieking on the scent of death—
What yelping jackal—what insidious breath
Of pestilence hath ventured to draw near,
And enter even here?
Hath sent among us foully to distress
And haunt our lives with fear?
What vulture, shrieking on the scent of death—
What yelping jackal—what insidious breath
Of pestilence hath ventured to draw near,
And enter even here?
“No kindred flesh of fair humanity
Yon fiend hath, seeking through lives doomed to die
Death's foretaste to infuse:
His body is but raised up from the slain
Unburied thousands that long years have lain
About the desert: Death himself doth choose
His pale disguise to use.
Yon fiend hath, seeking through lives doomed to die
Death's foretaste to infuse:
His body is but raised up from the slain
Unburied thousands that long years have lain
About the desert: Death himself doth choose
His pale disguise to use.
131
“But, even though he be from some new God,
He shall not turn us who love's ways have trod,
Nor make us break love's vow.
Nay, rather, if a single beauty dwells
In me, if in that beauty there be spells
To win my will of any man—O thou,
King Herod, hear me now!—
He shall not turn us who love's ways have trod,
Nor make us break love's vow.
Nay, rather, if a single beauty dwells
In me, if in that beauty there be spells
To win my will of any man—O thou,
King Herod, hear me now!—
“Let it be for his ruin! Ah, let me,
With all in me thou countest fair to see,
Procure this and no more!
If yet, with tender prevalence, my voice
May ask a thing of thee—this is my choice,
Though thou wouldst buy my sweets with all thy store—
This all I sell them for.
With all in me thou countest fair to see,
Procure this and no more!
If yet, with tender prevalence, my voice
May ask a thing of thee—this is my choice,
Though thou wouldst buy my sweets with all thy store—
This all I sell them for.
“Yea, are there lures of softness in my eyes?
My eyes are—for his death. Is my heart's prize
A seeming fair reward?
My virgin heart is—for his blood here shed;
Its passion—for the falling of his head;
And on that man my kiss shall be outpoured
Who slays him with the sword!”
My eyes are—for his death. Is my heart's prize
A seeming fair reward?
My virgin heart is—for his blood here shed;
Its passion—for the falling of his head;
And on that man my kiss shall be outpoured
Who slays him with the sword!”
132
Invisible—in supernatural haze,
Of shapes that seem not shapes to human gaze—
The devils were half awed as they did stand
Around her; each one in his separate hell
All inwardly was forced to praise her well:
And every man was fain to lose his hand
Or do all that sweet woman might command.
Of shapes that seem not shapes to human gaze—
The devils were half awed as they did stand
Around her; each one in his separate hell
All inwardly was forced to praise her well:
And every man was fain to lose his hand
Or do all that sweet woman might command.
There was a tumult.—Cloven foot and scale
Of fiend with iron heel and coat of mail
Were rolled and hustled in the rage to slay
That fair young Saviour: when they murdered him
And brought his head, still beautiful—though dim
And drenched with blood—the aureole did play
Above it, slowly vanishing away.
Of fiend with iron heel and coat of mail
Were rolled and hustled in the rage to slay
That fair young Saviour: when they murdered him
And brought his head, still beautiful—though dim
And drenched with blood—the aureole did play
Above it, slowly vanishing away.
I weep to think of him and his fair light
So quenched—of him thrust into some long night
Of unaccomplishment so soon, alas!
And Thou, who on that ancient palace floor
Didst dance, where dost thou writhe now evermore—
Salome, Daughter of Herodias?
O woman-viper—may thy curse ne'er pass!
So quenched—of him thrust into some long night
Of unaccomplishment so soon, alas!
And Thou, who on that ancient palace floor
Didst dance, where dost thou writhe now evermore—
Salome, Daughter of Herodias?
O woman-viper—may thy curse ne'er pass!
| An Epic of Women and Other Poems | |