Imaginary Sonnets | ||
40
DOCTOR FAUSTUS TO HELEN OF TROY.
(1520.)
I.
Thou shinest on me like the single star
That brightens in the pearly purple dusk,
When dreamy eve has scent of forest musk,
And faintly gleams the moon's pale scimitar.
That brightens in the pearly purple dusk,
When dreamy eve has scent of forest musk,
And faintly gleams the moon's pale scimitar.
The world's exulting beauties, near and far,
By thee are crones, their cheek a wrinkled husk.
Oh! thou whose breast is flame-lit Libyan tusk,
Whose eyes once kindled heaven-scaling war,
By thee are crones, their cheek a wrinkled husk.
Oh! thou whose breast is flame-lit Libyan tusk,
Whose eyes once kindled heaven-scaling war,
Off with this pedant's robe, this dull base garb,
That I may break a lance against the world,
Thou Queen of Queens of Beauty, in thy name;
That I may break a lance against the world,
Thou Queen of Queens of Beauty, in thy name;
And on a steel-clad steed, a fiery barb,
Win Helen's smile as each proud knight I've hurled
Writhes in his armour in the dust and shame.
Win Helen's smile as each proud knight I've hurled
Writhes in his armour in the dust and shame.
41
II.
At times I think thou art the moon that strays
Across my dusty study at still night,
And makes the phials and retorts gleam bright
As clustered icicles beneath her rays;
Across my dusty study at still night,
And makes the phials and retorts gleam bright
As clustered icicles beneath her rays;
For thou transmutest by thy placid gaze
All dust to dust of diamonds. O thou Light
Of long-dead lands, which, by my magic might,
I have rekindled for my olden days,
All dust to dust of diamonds. O thou Light
Of long-dead lands, which, by my magic might,
I have rekindled for my olden days,
Oh! I will hide thy legion-dooming charms
Deep in this dark old house—lest the Greek dead
Should burst their graves to snatch thee from my arms,
Deep in this dark old house—lest the Greek dead
Should burst their graves to snatch thee from my arms,
And, by the ghosts of all their captains led,
Should girdle Wittenberg with shadowy swarms
As many as the leaves on Autumn's bed.
Should girdle Wittenberg with shadowy swarms
As many as the leaves on Autumn's bed.
Imaginary Sonnets | ||