To Satan

To thee my verses,Unbridled and daring,Shall mount, O Satan,King of the banquet.

Away with thy sprinkling,O Priest, and thy droning,For never shall Satan,O Priest, stand behind thee.

See how the rust isGnawing the mysticalSword of St. Michael;And how the faithful

Wind-plucked archangelFalls into emptiness!Frozen the thunder inHand of Jehovah.

Like to pale meteors, orPlanets exhausted,Out of the firmamentRain down the angels.

Here in the matterWhich never sleeps,King of phenomena,King of all forms,

Thou, Satan, livest!Thine is the empireFelt in the dark eyes'Tremulous flashing,

Whether their languishingGlances resist, or,Glittering and tearful, theyCall and invite.

How shine the clustersWith happy blood,So that the furiousJoy may not perish!

So that the languishingLove be restored,And sorrow be banishedAnd love be increased!

Thy breath, O Satan,My verses inspiresWhen from my bosomThe gods I defy

Of Kings pontifical,Of Kings inhuman:Thine is the lightning thatSets minds to shaking.

For thee Arimane,Adonis, Astarte;For thee lived the marbles,The pictures, the parchments,

When the fair VenusAnadiomeneBlessed the IonianHeavens serene.

For thee were roaring theForests of Lebanon,Of the fair CyprianLover reborn;

For thee rose the chorus,For thee raved the dances,For thee the pure shiningLoves of the virgins,

Under the sweet-odouredPalms of Idume,Where break in white foamThe Cyprian waves.

What if the barbarousNazarene fury,Fed by the base ritesOf secret feastings,

Lights sacred torchesTo burn down the temples,Scattering abroadThe scrolls hieroglyphic?

In thee find refugeThe humble-roofed plebs,Who have not forgottenThe gods of their household.

Thence comes the power,Fervid and loving, that,Filling the quick-throbbingBosom of woman,

Turns to the succourOf nature enfeebled,A sorceress pallid,With endless care laden.

Thou to the trance-holdenEye of the alchemist,Thou to the view of theBigoted mago,

Showest the lightning-flashOf the new timeShining behind the darkBars of the cloister.

Seeking to fly from theeHere in the world-life,Hides him the gloomy monkIn Theban deserts.

O soul that wanderestFar from the straight way,Satan is merciful.See Héloïsa!

In vain you wear yourselfThin in rough gown; IStill murmur the versesOf Maro and Flaccus

Amid the DavidicPsalming and wailing;And—Delphic figuresClose to thy side—

Rosy, amid the darkCowls of the friars,Enters Licorida,Enters Glicera.

Then other imagesOf days more fairCome to dwell with theeIn thy secret cell.

Lo! from the pages ofLivy, the TribunesAll ardent, the Consuls,The crowds tumultuous,

Awake; and the fantasticPride of ItalianDrives thee, O Monk,Up to the Capitol;

And you, whom the flamingPyre never melted,Conjuring voices,Wiclif and Huss,

Send to the broad breezeThe cry of the watchman:“The age renews itself;Full is the time!”

Already trembleThe mitres and crowns.Forth from the cloisterMoves the rebellion.

Under his stole, see,Fighting and preaching,Brother GirolamoSavonarola.

Off goes the tunicOf Martin Luther;Off go the fettersThat bound human thought.

It flashes and lightens,Girdled with flame.Matter, exalt thyself!Satan has won!

A fair and terribleMonster unchainedCourses the oceans,Courses the earth;

Flashing and smoking,Like the volcanoes, heClimbs over mountains,Ravages plains,

Skims the abysses;Then he is lostIn unknown cavernsAnd ways profound,

Till lo! unconquered,From shore to shore,Like to the whirlwind,He sends forth his cry.

Like to the whirlwindSpreading its wings...He passes, O people,Satan the great!

Hail to thee, Satan!Hail, the Rebellion!Hail, of the reason theGreat Vindicator!

Sacred to thee shall riseIncense and vows!Thou hast the godOf the priests disenthroned!