Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888.
The RebelCharles Baudelaire (18211867)
Translated by Cosmo Monkhouse
A
Grips by the hair the unbelieving wight,
And furious cries, “O scorner of the right,
’Tis I, thine Angel good, who speaks. Obey!
Know, thou shalt love without the least distaste
The poor, the base, the crooked and the dull;
So shall the pageant of thy Lord be graced
With banners by thy love made beautiful.
This is God’s love. See that thy soul be fired
With its pure flame or e’er thy heart grow tired,
And thou shalt know the bliss that lasts for aye.”
Ah! with what ruthless love that Angel grand
Tortures and racks the wretch with giant hand!
—But still he answers “Never, till I die.”