LITMIR.BIZ

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inspired by her beauty; and her devotion to him, the abasement of soul, the prostitution of body, she underwent for and with him, is one of the noblest stories life has known. She seems to have dived with him, yet ever trying to raise his soul from the quagmire; if God is just at all, she shall stand more near to His right hand than the vaunted virgins who would soil no hem of vesture to save their brother from the worm that dieth not!

      The Works of George Archibald Bishop will speak for themselves; it would be both impertinent and superfluous in me to point out in detail their many and varied excellences, or their obvious faults. The raison d'etre, though, of their publication, is worthy of especial notice. I refer to their psychological sequence, which agrees with their chronological order. His life-history, as well as his literary remains, gives us an idea of the pro- gression of diabolism as it really is; not as it is painted. Note also, (1) the increase of selfishness in pleasure, (2) the diminution of his sensibility to physical charms. Pure and sane is his early work; then he is carried into the outer current of the great vortex of Sin, and whirls lazily through the sleepy waters of mere sensualism; the pace quickens, he grows fierce in the mysteries of Sapphism and the cult of Venus Aversa with women; later of the same forms of vice with men, all mingled with wild talk of religious dogma and a general exaltation of Priapism at the expense, in particular, of Christianity, in which religion, however, he is undoubtedly a believer till the last (the pious will quote James 2, 19, and the infidel will observe that he died in an asylum); then the full swing of the tide catches him, the mysteries of death become more and more an obsession, and he is flung headlong into Sadism, Necrophilia, all the maddest, fiercest vices that the mind of fiends ever brought up from the pit. But always to the very end his power is unexhausted, immense, terrible. His delirium does not amuse; it appals! A man who could conceive as he did must himself have had some glorius chord in his heart vibrating to the eternal principle of Boundless Love. That this love was wrecked is for me, in some sort a relative of his, a real and bitter sorrow. He might have been so great! He missed Heaven! Think kindly of him!

      Dedicace

       Table of Contents

      You crown me king and queen. There is a name

      For whose soft sound I would abandon all

      This pomp. I liefer would have had you call

      Some soft sweet title of beloved shame.

      Gold coronets be seemly, but bright flame

      I choose for diadem; I would let fall

      All crowns, all kingdoms, for one rhythmical

      Caress of thine, one kiss my soul to tame.

      You crown me king and queen; I crown thee lover!

      I bid thee hasten, nay, I plead with thee,

      Come in the thick dear darkness to my bed.

      Heed not my sighs, but eagerly uncover,

      As our mouths mingle, my sweet infamy,

      And rob thy lover of his maidenhead.

      Lie close; no pity, but a little love.

      Kiss me but once and all my pain is paid.

      Hurt me or soothe, stretch out one limb above

      Like a strong man who would constrain a maid.

      Touch me; I shudder and my lips turn back

      Over my shoulder if so be that thus

      My mouth may find thy mouth, if aught there lack

      To thy desire, till love is one with us.

      God! I shall faint with pain, I hide my face

      For shame. I am disturbed, I cannot rise,

      I breathe hard with thy breath; thy quick embrace

      Crushes; thy teeth are agony - pain dies

      In deadly passion. Ah! you come - you kill me!

      Christ! God! Bite! Bite! Ah Bite! Love's fountains fill me.

      Prefatory

       Table of Contents

      Sonnet to the Virgin Mary

      Mother of God! who knowest the dire pangs

      Of childbirth, and has suffered, and dost know

      How utter sweet the full fruit of thy woe,

      And how His heel hath crushed the serpent's fangs,

      Be with me in the birth of this my book,

      These songs of mine, poor children, like to die;

      Yet, if they may not perish utterly,

      It is to thee for sustenance I look.

      Mother of God! be with me in success,

      Abide with me if peradventure fail

      These faint songs, murmurs of a summer gale

      That my heart clothes within a mortal dress;

      And with thy sympathy, their bliss or bale

      Shall be too light to shake my happiness.

      A Fragment

       Table of Contents

      Man Hero

      Maid Heroine

      Her Mother

      Count B

      He. Draw nigh, sweet maiden, violets blush at birth,

      Pale lilies tinge with crimson, as the snow

      At dawn's approach, the pansy's darksome dye

      Deepens when tender winds blow over it

      And give its beauties to the summer's gaze:

      So blush at being mine, yet gently come

      And place a dainty hand within my hold

      Too delicate to crush it into warmth,

      Save that blood mantling to thy cheek shall flow

      Back to the fingers, though I press them not.

      And so I will not hesitate to put

      A ring upon thy hand, sweet mystery

      Of Love's device, to shadow in our hearts

      Th' Eternity of an immortal self

      That is, and shall be while the stars endure,

      Or while a God of Love is pitiful

      Of all men's sorrows, and most happy in

      Their joys-

      She. Ah! joys are fleeting!-

      He. But our love

      Is anchored in the portals of the dawn

      Where heaven begins.

      She. And heaven begins with us

      This day. Behold the flowers, whose kindly gaze

      Of modest love is on us as we stand,

      And clasp fond hands before high Heaven to swear

      Truth an eternal bond, no parchment scroll

      Of perishable matter ill devised

      And scored upon with perishable ink,

      But in our pulses' quick delight to live

      From day to day renewed, as if a fount

      Of God's mysterious stream, that here a man

      May wet his ankle, and again immerse

      Unto his knees, and yet again assay

      To cross its silver depth and

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