The Sphinx

The Sphinx

　　（To Marcel Schwob in friendship and in admiration¹）

　　In a dim corner of my room for longer than

　　my fancy thinks

　　A beautiful and silent Sphinx has watched me

　　through the shifting gloom.

　　Inviolate² and immobile she does not rise she

　　does not stir

　　For silver moons are naught³ to her and naught

　　to her the suns that reel.

　　Red follows grey across the air， the waves of

　　moonlight ebb⁴ and flow

　　But with the Dawn she does not go and in the

　　night-time she is there.

　　Dawn follows Dawn and Nights grow old and

　　all the while this curious cat

　　Lies couching on the Chinese mat with eyes of

　　satin rimmed⁵ with gold.

　　Upon the mat she lies and leers and on the

　　tawny⁶ throat of her

　　Flutters the soft and silky fur or ripples⁷ to her

　　pointed⁸ ears.

　　Come forth⁹， my lovely seneschal！ so somnolent¹⁰，

　　so statuesque！

　　Come forth you exquisite¹¹ grotesque¹²！ half woman

　　and half animal！

　　Come forth my lovely languorous¹³ Sphinx！ and

　　put your head upon my knee！

　　And let me stroke your throat and see your

　　body spotted¹⁴ like the Lynx！

　　And let me touch those curving claws of yellow

　　ivory and grasp

　　The tail that like a monstrous¹⁵ Asp coils round

　　your heavy velvet¹⁶ paws！

　　A thousand weary centuries are thine

　　while I have hardly seen

　　Some twenty summers cast their green for

　　Autumn's gaudy¹⁷ liveries.

　　But you can read the Hieroglyphs¹⁸ on the

　　great sandstone obelisks¹⁹，

　　And you have talked with Basilisks， and you

　　have looked on Hippogriffs.

　　O tell me， were you standing²⁰ by when Isis to

　　Osiris knelt？

　　And did you watch the Egyptian melt her union

　　for Antony

　　And drink the jewel-drunken wine and bend

　　her head in mimic²¹ awe²²

　　To see the huge proconsul draw the salted tunny

　　from the brine？

　　And did you mark the Cyprian kiss white Adon

　　on his catafalque？

　　And did you follow Amenalk， the God of

　　Heliopolis？

　　And did you talk with Thoth， and did you hear

　　the moon-horned Io weep？

　　And know the painted kings who sleep beneath

　　the wedge-shaped Pyramid？

　　Lift up your large black satin eyes which are

　　like cushions where one sinks！

　　Fawn²³ at my feet， fantastic Sphinx！ and sing me

　　all your memories！

　　Sing to me of the Jewish maid who wandered

　　with the Holy Child，

　　And how you led them through the wild， and

　　how they slept beneath your shade.

　　Sing to me of that odorous green eve when

　　crouching²⁶ by the marge

　　You heard from Adrian's gilded²⁷ barge²⁸ the

　　laughter of Antinous

　　And lapped the stream and fed your drouth and

　　watched with hot and hungry stare

　　The ivory body of that rare young slave with

　　his pomegranate mouth！

　　Sing to me of the Labyrinth³⁰ in which the twi-

　　formed bull was stalled！

　　Sing to me of the night you crawled across the

　　temple's granite³¹ plinth

　　When through the purple corridors the screaming

　　scarlet³² Ibis flew

　　In terror， and a horrid³³ dew dripped from the

　　moaning Mandragores，

　　And the great torpid³⁴ crocodile within the tank

　　shed slimy tears，

　　And tare²⁹ the jewels from his ears and staggered

　　back into the Nile，

　　And the priests cursed you with shrill³⁵ psalms³⁶ as

　　in your claws you seized their snake

　　And crept away with it to slake³⁷ your passion by

　　the shuddering³⁹ palms.

　　Who were your lovers？ who were they

　　who wrestled⁴⁰ for you in the dust？

　　Which was the vessel⁴¹ of your Lust⁴²？ What

　　Leman had you， every day？

　　Did giant Lizards⁴³ come and crouch²⁵ before you

　　on the reedy banks？

　　Did Gryphons with great metal flanks leap on

　　you in your trampled⁴⁴ couch？

　　Did monstrous hippopotami come sidling toward

　　you in the mist？

　　Did gilt-scaled dragons writhe⁴⁵ and twist with

　　passion as you passed them by？

　　And from the brick-built Lycian tomb what

　　horrible Chimera⁴⁶ came

　　With fearful heads and fearful flame to breed

　　new wonders from your womb？

　　Or had you shameful⁴⁸ secret quests and did

　　you harry⁴⁹ to your home

　　Some Nereid coiled in amber⁵⁰ foam⁵¹ with curious

　　rock crystal breasts？

　　Or did you treading through the froth call to

　　the brown Sidonian

　　For tidings of Leviathan， Leviathan or

　　Behemoth？

　　Or did you when the sun was set climb up the

　　cactus-covered slope

　　To meet your swarthy Ethiop whose body was

　　of polished jet？

　　Or did you while the earthen skiffs dropped

　　down the grey Nilotic flats

　　At twilight⁵² and the flickering⁵⁴ bats flew round

　　the temple's triple glyphs

　　Steal to the border of the bar and swim across

　　the silent lake

　　And slink into the vault⁵⁵ and make the Pyramid

　　your lupanar

　　Till from each black sarcophagus rose up the

　　painted swathed dead？

　　Or did you lure⁵⁶ unto your bed the ivory-horned

　　Tragelaphos？

　　Or did you love the god of flies who plagued

　　the Hebrews and was splashed

　　With wine unto the waist？ or Pasht， who had

　　green beryls for her eyes？

　　Or that young god， the Tyrian， who was more

　　amorous⁵⁸ than the dove

　　Of Ashtaroth？ or did you love the god of the

　　Assyrian

　　Whose wings， like strange transparent⁵⁹ talc， rose

　　high above his hawk-faced head，

　　Painted with silver and with red and ribbed with

　　rods of Oreichalch？

　　Or did huge Apis from his car leap down and

　　lay before your feet

　　Big blossoms of the honey-sweet and honey-

　　coloured nenuphar？

　　How subtle-secret is your smile！ Did you

　　love none then？ Nay⁶⁰， I know

　　Great Ammon was your bedfellow！ He lay with

　　you beside the Nile！

　　The river-horses in the slime trumpeted⁶¹ when

　　they saw him come

　　Odorous with Syrian galbanum and smeared⁶² with

　　spikenard and with thyme.

　　He came along the river bank like some tall

　　galley⁶³ argent-sailed，

　　He strode across the waters， mailed in beauty，

　　and the waters sank.

　　He strode across the desert sand： he reached

　　the valley where you lay：

　　He waited till the dawn of day： then touched

　　your black breasts with his hand.

　　You kissed his mouth with mouths of flame：

　　you made the horned god your own：

　　You stood behind him on his throne： you called

　　him by his secret name.

　　You whispered monstrous oracles⁶⁴ into the

　　caverns⁶⁵ of his ears：

　　With blood of goats and blood of steers⁶⁶ you

　　taught him monstrous miracles.

　　White Ammon was your bedfellow！ Your

　　chamber⁶⁷ was the steaming Nile！

　　And with your curved archaic⁶⁸ smile you watched

　　his passion come and go.

　　With Syrian oils his brows were bright：

　　and wide-spread as a tent at noon

　　His marble limbs made pale the moon and lent

　　the day a larger light.

　　His long hair was nine cubits' span and coloured

　　like that yellow gem⁶⁹

　　Which hidden in their garment's hem²⁴ the

　　merchants bring from Kurdistan.

　　His face was as the must that lies upon a vat⁷⁰ of

　　new-made wine：

　　The seas could not insapphirine the perfect azure⁷¹

　　of his eyes.

　　His thick soft throat was white as milk and

　　threaded with thin veins⁷² of blue：

　　And curious pearls like frozen dew were

　　broidered on his flowing silk.

　　On pearl and porphyry pedestalled he was

　　too bright to look upon：

　　For on his ivory breast there shone the wondrous⁷³

　　ocean-emerald，

　　That mystic moonlit jewel which some diver of

　　the Colchian caves

　　Had found beneath the blackening waves and

　　carried to the Colchian witch.

　　Before his gilded galiot ran naked vine-wreathed

　　corybants，

　　And lines of swaying elephants knelt down to

　　draw his chariot，

　　And lines of swarthy Nubians bare up his litter

　　as he rode

　　Down the great granite-paven road between the

　　nodding peacock-fans.

　　The merchants brought him steatite from Sidon

　　in their painted ships：

　　The meanest cup that touched his lips was

　　fashioned from a chrysolite.

　　The merchants brought him cedar⁷⁵ chests of rich

　　apparel bound with cords：

　　His train was borne by Memphian lords： young

　　kings were glad to be his guests.

　　Ten hundred shaven priests did bow to Ammon's

　　altar day and night，

　　Ten hundred lamps did wave their light through

　　Ammon's carven house - and now

　　Foul⁷⁶ snake and speckled adder⁷⁷ with their young

　　ones crawl from stone to stone

　　For ruined is the house and prone⁷⁸ the great

　　rose-marble monolith！

　　Wild ass³⁸ or trotting⁷⁹ jackal comes and couches

　　in the mouldering⁸⁰ gates：

　　Wild satyrs call unto their mates across the

　　fallen fluted⁸¹ drums.

　　And on the summit of the pile the blue-faced

　　ape of Horus sits

　　And gibbers while the fig-tree splits the pillars

　　of the peristyle

　　The god is scattered⁸² here and there： deep

　　hidden in the windy sand

　　I saw his giant granite hand still clenched⁸³ in

　　impotent despair.

　　And many a wandering caravan⁸⁴ of stately

　　negroes silken-shawled，

　　Crossing the desert， halts appalled⁸⁵ before the

　　neck that none can span.

　　And many a bearded Bedouin draws back his

　　yellow-striped burnous

　　To gaze upon the Titan thews of him who was

　　thy paladin.

　　Go， seek his fragments on the moor⁸⁶ and

　　wash them in the evening dew，

　　And from their pieces make anew thy mutilated

　　paramour！

　　Go， seek them where they lie alone and from

　　their broken pieces make

　　Thy bruised⁸⁸ bedfellow！ And wake mad passions

　　in the senseless stone！

　　Charm his dull ear with Syrian hymns⁸⁹！ he loved

　　your body！ oh， be kind，

　　Pour spikenard on his hair， and wind soft rolls

　　of linen⁹⁰ round his limbs！

　　Wind round his head the figured coins！ stain

　　with red fruits those pallid⁹¹ lips！

　　Weave purple for his shrunken hips⁷⁴！ and purple

　　for his barren loins！

　　Away to Egypt！ Have no fear. Only one

　　God has ever died.

　　Only one God has let His side be wounded by a

　　soldier's spear.

　　But these， thy lovers， are not dead. Still by the

　　hundred-cubit gate

　　Dog-faced Anubis sits in state with lotus-lilies

　　for thy head.

　　Still from his chair of porphyry gaunt Memnon

　　strains his lidless eyes

　　Across the empty land， and cries each yellow

　　morning unto thee.

　　And Nilus with his broken horn lies in his black

　　and oozy⁹² bed

　　And till thy coming will not spread his waters on

　　the withering⁹³ corn.

　　Your lovers are not dead， I know. They will

　　rise up and hear your voice

　　And clash their cymbals⁹⁴ and rejoice and run to

　　kiss your mouth！ And so，

　　Set wings upon your argosies！ Set horses to

　　your ebon car！

　　Back to your Nile！ Or if you are grown sick of

　　dead divinities

　　Follow some roving lion's spoor across the copper-

　　coloured plain，

　　Reach out and hale him by the mane and bid

　　him be your paramour！

　　Couch by his side upon the grass and set your

　　white teeth in his throat

　　And when you hear his dying note lash⁵⁷ your

　　long flanks of polished brass⁹⁵

　　And take a tiger for your mate， whose amber

　　sides are flecked with black，

　　And ride upon his gilded back in triumph

　　through the Theban gate，

　　And toy with him in amorous jests， and when

　　he turns， and snarls⁹⁶， and gnaws⁹⁷，

　　O smite⁹⁸ him with your jasper claws！ and bruise⁸⁷

　　him with your agate⁹⁹ breasts！

　　Why are you tarrying？ Get hence！ I

　　weary of your sullen¹⁰⁰ ways，

　　I weary of your steadfast¹⁰¹ gaze， your somnolent

　　magnificence.

　　Your horrible and heavy breath makes the light

　　flicker⁵³ in the lamp，

　　And on my brow I feel the damp and dreadful

　　dews of night and death.

　　Your eyes are like fantastic moons that shiver

　　in some stagnant¹⁰² lake，

　　Your tongue is like a scarlet snake that dances

　　to fantastic tunes¹⁰³，

　　Your pulse makes poisonous melodies， and your

　　black throat is like the hole

　　Left by some torch or burning coal on Saracenic

　　tapestries¹⁰⁴.

　　Away！ The sulphur-coloured stars are hurrying

　　through the Western gate！

　　Away！ Or it may be too late to climb their silent

　　silver cars！

　　See， the dawn shivers round the grey gilt-dialled

　　towers， and the rain

　　Streams down each diamonded pane¹⁰⁵ and blurs¹⁰⁶

　　with tears the wannish day.

　　What snake-tressed fury fresh from Hell， with

　　uncouth¹⁰⁷ gestures and unclean，

　　Stole from the poppy-drowsy queen and led you

　　to a student's cell？

　　What songless tongueless ghost of sin crept

　　through the curtains of the night，

　　And saw my taper¹⁰⁸ burning bright， and knocked，

　　and bade you enter in？

　　Are there not others more accursed， whiter with

　　leprosies than I？

　　Are Abana and Pharphar dry that you come here

　　to slake your thirst？

　　Get hence， you loathsome¹⁰⁹ mystery！ Hideous¹¹⁰

　　animal， get hence！

　　You wake in me each bestial¹¹¹ sense， you make me

　　what I would not be.

　　You make my creed¹¹² a barren sham⁴⁷， you wake

　　foul dreams of sensual life，

　　And Atys with his blood-stained knife were

　　better than the thing I am.

　　False Sphinx！ False Sphinx！ By reedy Styx

　　old Charon， leaning on his oar¹¹³，

　　Waits for my coin. Go thou before， and leave

　　me to my crucifix，

　　Whose pallid burden， sick with pain， watches

　　the world with wearied eyes，

　　And weeps for every soul that dies， and weeps

　　for every soul in vain.