The Poems and Prose Poems of Charles Baudelaire With an Introductory Preface By James Huneker (Classic Reprint)
Language: English
Pages: 196
ISBN: B0091W3ZXM
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
By JAMES HUNEKER. For the sentimental no greater foe exists than the iconoclast who dissipates literary legends. And he is abroad nowadays. Those golden times when they gossiped of De Quincey senormous opium consumption, of the gin absorbed by gentle Charles Lamb, of Coleridge sdark ways, Byron sescapades, and Shelley satheism alas! into what faded limbo have they vanished. Poe, too, whom we saw in fancy reeling from Eichmond to Baltimore, Baltimore to Philadelphia, Philadelphia to New York. Those familiar fascinating anecdotes have gone the way of all such jerry-built spooks. We now know Poe to have been a man suffering at the time of his death from cerebral lesion, a man who drank at intervals and little. Dr. Guerrier of Paris has exploded a darling superstition about De Quincey sopium-eating.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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Community, Myth and Recognition in Twentieth-Century French Literature and Thought
Will be slaked. My desire, that hope has made monstrous, will frolic in your tears as a ship tosses on the ocean – in my besotted heart your adorable sobs will echo like an ecstatic drum. For I – am I not a dissonance in the divine accord, because of the greedy Irony which infiltrates my soul? I hear it in my voice – that shrillness, that poison in my blood! I am the sinister glass in which the Fury sees herself! I am the knife and the wound it deals, I am the slap and the cheek,.
Their sinister and single charge: Remember! Pain is the unfailing bow, as arrow after arrow finds your heart. Pleasure fades and dances out of sight – one pirouette, the theater goes dark; each instant snatches from you what you had, the crumb of happiness within your grasp. Thirty-six hundred times in every hour the Second whispers: Remember! and Now replies in its maddening mosquito hum: I am Past, who passing lit and sucked your life and left! Remember! Souviens-toi! Esto memor!.
Broke her vow and died apostate to her own command, her lovely body forfeit to a brute whose arrogance avenged the sacrilege of Sappho, lost the day she broke her vow… And from that time to this, Lesbos laments. Heedless of the homage of the world, she drugs herself each night with cries of pain that rend the skies above her empty shores, and from that time to this Lesbos laments! DAMNED WOMEN DELPHINE AND HIPPOLYTA Disclosed, though dimly, by the faltering lamps, Hippolyta rested on.
And when they spat on your divinity, the jeering scullions and the conscript scum – that moment when you felt the thorns impale the skull which housed Humanity itself; when the intolerable weight of your tormented flesh hung from your distended arms; when blood and sweat cascaded from your whitening brow; when you were made a target for all eyes – did you dream then of the wonder-working days when you came to keep eternal promises, riding an ass, and everywhere the ways strewn with.
And haunted by its vertigo my mind envies the indifference of the void: will Numbers and Beings never set me free! ICARUS LAMENTS Happy men who fornicate with whores are satisfied and fit, while my exhausted arms are impotent from clasping only clouds; nights of staring at the peerless stars which ornament the dark have seared my eyes until they see no more than memories of suns; I have not followed out the heart of space nor touched its boundaries: beneath a fiery gaze I cannot.