The Succuba

I have dreams where I believe That a queen of some dim palace, One, whose name is Genevieve, Weighs me with her love or malice: She is dead and yet my bride: And she glimmers at my side Offering a crystal chalice Filled with fire, diamond-dyed.

I have dreams. Ah, would that I Might forget them!--I remember How her gaze, all icily Draws me, like a glowing ember, Up her castle-stair’s pale-paved Alabaster, from the waved Ocean, grayer than November, Where I linger, soul-enslaved.

Walls of shadow and of night Lit with casements full of fire, Somber red or piercing white: As the wind breathes lower, higher, Round the towers spirit-things Whisper, and the haunted strings Moan of each huge, plangent lyre Set upon its four chief wings.

In its corridors at tryst Flame-eyed phantoms meet. Its sparry Halls are misty amethyst: Battlemented ’neath the starry Skies it looms; the strange unknown Skies where, green as glow-worms, sown, Gloom the stars; the moon hangs barry Beryl, low and large and lone....

Can it be a witch is she? Or a vampire? she, far whiter Than the spirits of the sea!-- She whose eyes are cold, yet brighter Than her throat’s pale jewels. Lo! Flame she is though seeming snow: And her love lies tighter, tighter On my heart than utter woe.

Though I dream, it seems I live; And my heart is sick with sorrow Of the love that it must give To her; passion, it must borrow Of herself, unhallowed, vain; Then return it her again: Thus she holds me; and to-morrow Still will hold with sweetest pain.

In her garden’s moon-white space Strangest flowers bloom: huge lilies, Each one with a human face; Knots of spirit-amaryllis; Cactus-bulks with pulpy blooms Gnome-like in the silver glooms; And dim deeps of daffadillies, Fay-like, brimming faint perfumes.

But to me their fragrance seems Poison; and their lambent lustre, Spun of twilight and of dreams, Poison; and each pearly cluster Hides a serpent’s fang. And I, Looking from an oriel, sigh; For my soul is fain to muster Heart to breathe of them and die.

Then I feel big eyes, as bright As the sea-stars. Gray with glitter, She behind me, moony white, Smiles, ’mid hangings wherein flitter Loves and deeds of Amadis Darkly worked. And then her kiss On my mouth falls; sweet and bitter With a bliss that is not bliss.

And I kiss her eyes and hair; Smooth her tresses till their golden Glimmer sparkles. Everywhere Shapes of strange aromas, holden Of the walls, around us troop; And in golden loop on loop,-- Of the lull’d eyes vague beholden,-- Forms of music o’er us stoop.

Yet I see beneath it all, All this sorcery, a devil, Beautiful, and white, and tall, Broods with shadowy eyes of evil: She, who must resume with morn Her true shape: a cactus-thorn, Monstrous, on some lonely level Of that demon-world forlorn.

I have dreams where I believe That a queen of some dim palace, One, whose name is Genevieve, Weighs me with her love or malice: And all night I am her slave There beside the demon wave, Where I drain the loathsome chalice Of her love, that is my grave.