 | Phantasmagoria |  |
9
A Dream of China.
The closing lines are suggested by a quotation from a Chinese poet in Gautier's Preface to the Poems of Baudelaire.
In the celestial empire of the Sun,
Beyond the Orient's fire entailéd gates,
Twixt morning twilight's curtain starry-spun
And even gloaming's woof of flame-fraught dun
Wherein she swathes her dusky-braided plaits,
On the extreme ocean's brink whose star-paved breast,
Ambiguous situate, is neither east nor west,
Beyond the Orient's fire entailéd gates,
Twixt morning twilight's curtain starry-spun
And even gloaming's woof of flame-fraught dun
Wherein she swathes her dusky-braided plaits,
On the extreme ocean's brink whose star-paved breast,
Ambiguous situate, is neither east nor west,
In China, touching either hemisphere,
An old-world tyrant built himself a home
Proportioned to men's hate of him and fear.
One over other, tier on soaring tier,
On spiral pillars slept each convex dome
Veneered with silver white and blue as glass.
The columns were of crystal and alternate brass.
An old-world tyrant built himself a home
Proportioned to men's hate of him and fear.
One over other, tier on soaring tier,
On spiral pillars slept each convex dome
Veneered with silver white and blue as glass.
The columns were of crystal and alternate brass.
All round, the terraced gardens, ridge on ridge,
Of vale, and plateau, and balustered bank,
Threw many a lofty-archéd gilt-railed bridge
Of airy structure poised from edge to edge
Of narrow runnel and broad lucid tank,
O'er clear blue waters fringed with foliage close
Of hoary silver and green-grey willow rows.
Of vale, and plateau, and balustered bank,
Threw many a lofty-archéd gilt-railed bridge
Of airy structure poised from edge to edge
Of narrow runnel and broad lucid tank,
O'er clear blue waters fringed with foliage close
Of hoary silver and green-grey willow rows.
10
Quaint flowers and gorgeous lined each measured walk,
Red and white lilies. Hispid cactus hung
Vermilion pendants, flag-like, from stiff stalk,
Ripe scarlet as a monarch's catafale.
Great luminous bells from tendrilled trellise swung;
Gold rods, and pistils bossed with knobs of gold
Lured the red moth his grainéd blazonries to fold.
Red and white lilies. Hispid cactus hung
Vermilion pendants, flag-like, from stiff stalk,
Ripe scarlet as a monarch's catafale.
Great luminous bells from tendrilled trellise swung;
Gold rods, and pistils bossed with knobs of gold
Lured the red moth his grainéd blazonries to fold.
There his deep-damasked body's fulvous fur,
His blazing heraldries of stripe and streak
And scroll, and crescent, and starry-spikéd spur,
On his encrimsoned pennon lightly astir,
His breast of tufted velvet rich and sleek
With satin sheen, and down, and powdery gloss,
Flame like a silken ensign purfled with gold floss.
His blazing heraldries of stripe and streak
And scroll, and crescent, and starry-spikéd spur,
On his encrimsoned pennon lightly astir,
His breast of tufted velvet rich and sleek
With satin sheen, and down, and powdery gloss,
Flame like a silken ensign purfled with gold floss.
And there the peacock spreads his starlight fan
Shot green and blue, with eyes of burning gold,
Medallioned art profuse too rich for man,
Lavish with stars like clear Aldebaran,
Luxurious plumage. Sumptuously stoled,
His bosom mailed in metal of cyanite,
He trails his train of stars, and shrieks his fierce delight.
Shot green and blue, with eyes of burning gold,
Medallioned art profuse too rich for man,
Lavish with stars like clear Aldebaran,
Luxurious plumage. Sumptuously stoled,
His bosom mailed in metal of cyanite,
He trails his train of stars, and shrieks his fierce delight.
There in small garden-bowers (pagoda-shape)
Tinselled with golden foil, white maid and queen,
That robes of shifting shimmering satin drape,
Or tawny tusser, or creamy rose of crape,
With paper fan, beside a fretted screen,
From lucent porcelain sip the amber tea
At tables of mosaic sandal and ivory.
Tinselled with golden foil, white maid and queen,
That robes of shifting shimmering satin drape,
Or tawny tusser, or creamy rose of crape,
With paper fan, beside a fretted screen,
From lucent porcelain sip the amber tea
At tables of mosaic sandal and ivory.
11
Their tiny feet in gilded shoon are cased,
Twisted and curled; their wrought elaborate hair
Is dressed with diamond butterflies, and laced
With artificial flowers metal-faced,
Rattling and stiff, with petals broad that glare
Gold, copper, glazéd red, or burning blue,
And many a glinting strange and iridescent hue,
Twisted and curled; their wrought elaborate hair
Is dressed with diamond butterflies, and laced
With artificial flowers metal-faced,
Rattling and stiff, with petals broad that glare
Gold, copper, glazéd red, or burning blue,
And many a glinting strange and iridescent hue,
Their almond eyes glint amorously: their white teeth
Flash wicked smiles between rose-coloured lips
Stained with the juice of wondrous herbs: beneath
Their languorous lids are blue like a flower sheath,
And henna yellows their curled finger tips.
They laugh, and chatter, and sing a strange soft song,
Whipping their ivory tops with golden-twisted thong.
Flash wicked smiles between rose-coloured lips
Stained with the juice of wondrous herbs: beneath
Their languorous lids are blue like a flower sheath,
And henna yellows their curled finger tips.
They laugh, and chatter, and sing a strange soft song,
Whipping their ivory tops with golden-twisted thong.
The gates are two vast polished ivory leaves
Thronged with strange figures, clear-carved, deep-embossed,
A tissue such as piled-up tempest weaves
Out of white clouds,—warriors with swords and greaves,
Square-sailéd ships on swollen waters tossed,
Islands and gardens crowned with palaces,
Dragons, and fiends, and gods, and hideous prodigies.
Thronged with strange figures, clear-carved, deep-embossed,
A tissue such as piled-up tempest weaves
Out of white clouds,—warriors with swords and greaves,
Square-sailéd ships on swollen waters tossed,
Islands and gardens crowned with palaces,
Dragons, and fiends, and gods, and hideous prodigies.
Within, the hall would make our dull eyes ache,
For all the sides, as with rich Arras, swathed
In yellow banners, blazed with a white snake,
Threw lurid light in one broad liquid lake;
And all the tessellated floor was bathed
With yellow glory, poured in a rich flood,
Like flower-juice, on the cushioned couches red as blood.
For all the sides, as with rich Arras, swathed
In yellow banners, blazed with a white snake,
Threw lurid light in one broad liquid lake;
And all the tessellated floor was bathed
With yellow glory, poured in a rich flood,
Like flower-juice, on the cushioned couches red as blood.
12
And all the palace like an almond-grove
Was filled with perfume. Stunted orange trees
In gaudy vases, in each warm alcove,
Exhaling fumes of languorous odour, throve,
And other scents came in upon the breeze
From the sweet gardens, smells of spice trees rare,
And flowering shrubs entrailed that bloom in tropic air.
Was filled with perfume. Stunted orange trees
In gaudy vases, in each warm alcove,
Exhaling fumes of languorous odour, throve,
And other scents came in upon the breeze
From the sweet gardens, smells of spice trees rare,
And flowering shrubs entrailed that bloom in tropic air.
There at a great chess-table, rose and white,
Sits many a grave and blue-robed mandarin,
Moving the carven pieces left and right.
Others, serene, absorbed in still delight
Of lofty contemplation heard within,—
Ecstatic visions,—fill their small glass bowls
Pensively with narcotic nectar of the ghouls.
Sits many a grave and blue-robed mandarin,
Moving the carven pieces left and right.
Others, serene, absorbed in still delight
Of lofty contemplation heard within,—
Ecstatic visions,—fill their small glass bowls
Pensively with narcotic nectar of the ghouls.
But most at midnight is that palace fair
When all is hushed through every chamber dim,
Hushed all the voices on the silent stair,
And in the terraced garden: when the air
Seems with the sense of passion sweet to swim,
And the sole sound, if any sound there be,
Is of a silvery kiss or of a turning key.
When all is hushed through every chamber dim,
Hushed all the voices on the silent stair,
And in the terraced garden: when the air
Seems with the sense of passion sweet to swim,
And the sole sound, if any sound there be,
Is of a silvery kiss or of a turning key.
Then, when the nightingale is all aswoon,
Soft down some snowy marble corridor
Flooded with sheening radiance of the moon,
With the soft sighing of a silken tune,
The Empress, issuing on the beam-blanched floor,
Sweeps, with faint rustle and tints of shifting grain,
The silvery shadowy plaits of her white satin train.
Soft down some snowy marble corridor
Flooded with sheening radiance of the moon,
With the soft sighing of a silken tune,
The Empress, issuing on the beam-blanched floor,
Sweeps, with faint rustle and tints of shifting grain,
The silvery shadowy plaits of her white satin train.
Aug. 14th. 1886.
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