 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
VENUS VICTRIX.
The lamps burn dim with their coloured light,
In a pale and purple glow,
And their shadows shyly throw
On a man rejoicing in his might,
And a woman wonderful and bright,
While her loosened tresses flow;
And the winds outside, in the solemn night,
Do their stormy trumpets blow.
In a pale and purple glow,
And their shadows shyly throw
On a man rejoicing in his might,
And a woman wonderful and bright,
While her loosened tresses flow;
And the winds outside, in the solemn night,
Do their stormy trumpets blow.
He was once the first in the festive throng,
When the ruddy wine went round,
And its joy was maddening found,
While he stooped in his youth erect and strong,
From the starry heights to the bestial wrong;
Now he treads a fairer ground,
With red lips that move to murmuring sound,
And white arms' enchanting bound.
When the ruddy wine went round,
And its joy was maddening found,
While he stooped in his youth erect and strong,
From the starry heights to the bestial wrong;
Now he treads a fairer ground,
With red lips that move to murmuring sound,
And white arms' enchanting bound.
Though one of a lineage high and old,
To him gives her maiden heart,
That is huckstered not in mart,
For the broad broad lands and the precious gold;
He has taken the love so lightly sold,
And the glances sweet from art,
With the kisses richly paid and cold;
He has chosen the doomèd part.
To him gives her maiden heart,
That is huckstered not in mart,
For the broad broad lands and the precious gold;
He has taken the love so lightly sold,
And the glances sweet from art,
With the kisses richly paid and cold;
He has chosen the doomèd part.
Lo, her venal smiles upon him beam,
And her praises falsely steep
The infatuate soul in sleep;
And he basks in those eyes of perjured gleam,
Like a fool who floats in a dazzling dream,
While the fates yet closer creep,
Down the lazy breast of a lilied stream,
To some veiled and dreadful deep.
And her praises falsely steep
The infatuate soul in sleep;
And he basks in those eyes of perjured gleam,
Like a fool who floats in a dazzling dream,
While the fates yet closer creep,
Down the lazy breast of a lilied stream,
To some veiled and dreadful deep.
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But her warm soft hands about him twine,
And her breath in perfume plays
With delight that stings, and stays
A delirious hour, like the damning wine,
In which fires of a hundred sunsets shine;
And a lock rebellious strays,
To the hungry hands that pant and pine,
For the lust that only slays.
And her breath in perfume plays
With delight that stings, and stays
A delirious hour, like the damning wine,
In which fires of a hundred sunsets shine;
And a lock rebellious strays,
To the hungry hands that pant and pine,
For the lust that only slays.
And slowly her charms voluptuous slip,
As the dew on thirsty fields,
While he surely sinks and yields,
Through the yearning bosom and parchéd lip,
And they throb like flame to each flnger's tip,
Like flame that a sorcerer wields;
He forgets the Heavens that guide the ship,
And the holier love that shields.
As the dew on thirsty fields,
While he surely sinks and yields,
Through the yearning bosom and parchéd lip,
And they throb like flame to each flnger's tip,
Like flame that a sorcerer wields;
He forgets the Heavens that guide the ship,
And the holier love that shields.
He has only ears, in his prison pent,
As the hand within her glove,
For the voice that outcooes the dove,
While his thrilling form is spoiled and rent,
With the splendid beauty on him bent,
In a burning hell of love,
And the wanton grace profusely spent,
That would mock the skies above.
As the hand within her glove,
For the voice that outcooes the dove,
While his thrilling form is spoiled and rent,
With the splendid beauty on him bent,
In a burning hell of love,
And the wanton grace profusely spent,
That would mock the skies above.
And her serpent limbs still tighter close,
On unmanned and pliant frame,
That no other touch would tame,
While the languid head in its luring pose,
And the mouth a ripe and perfect rose,
Have conspired to wreak his shame;
He is walking the path he wildly chose,
For the sunlit peaks of fame.
On unmanned and pliant frame,
That no other touch would tame,
While the languid head in its luring pose,
And the mouth a ripe and perfect rose,
Have conspired to wreak his shame;
He is walking the path he wildly chose,
For the sunlit peaks of fame.
O she sucks the glory of his life,
And the blossom from his store,
What exceeds refinèd ore;
Till his being all with passion rife,
Is of honour reft, in the losing strife,
And the goodly fruits it bore;
Till she casts him off as a blunted knife,
Wherewith sin can work no more.
And the blossom from his store,
What exceeds refinèd ore;
Till his being all with passion rife,
Is of honour reft, in the losing strife,
And the goodly fruits it bore;
Till she casts him off as a blunted knife,
Wherewith sin can work no more.
CHORUS.
Onward still do they haste,Wanton bosom, wild waist,
And the paradise found,
In the arms softly wound,
And the dainty head tost,
Yet again to be lost,
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And leave aching the heart;
But in laughter and song,
Madly whirling along,
They are borne without stay,
Turning darkness to day,
Of the noon framing night,
And with sadness delight;
In abysses they drop,
But the rest never stop,
In their feverish tread,
On the dying and dead;
Though the honeyed lips press
Closer still, their caress
Is but glory of shame,
And the sting after flame—
Poison lurks in their breath,
—Unto Death.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |