IPS 3525 .fl67 S6 1922 Copy 1 SONNETS TO A RED-HAIRED L,^DY AND FAMOUS i.OVE A: h AIRS BY DON I, ^OUIS Pass; "PS ^h 2. ^ Book /A/.7S6 CQEJMGHT DEPOSm SONNETS TO A RED-HAIRED LADY AND FAMOUS LOVE AFFAIRS BOOKS BY DON MARQUIS Cruise of the Jasper B. Danny's Own Story Dreams and Dust Hermione and Her Little Group or Serious Thinkers Poems and Portraits Prefaces (Decorations by Tony Sarq) Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady and Famous Love Affairs The Old Soak and Hail and Farewell SONNETS TO A RED-HAIRED LADY {By a Gentleman with a Blue Beard) AND FAMOUS LOVE AFFAIRS BY DON MARQUIS DRAWINGS BY STUART HAY GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK, TORONTO DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 1922 -v^ COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN COPYRIGHT, IQIS, I916, I917, BY SUN PRINTING AND PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. T. First Edition M -I 1922 ©CI.A661958 TO MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED WITHOUT HER PERMISSION BY ONE OF HER HUMBLE ADMIRERS CONTENTS SONNETS TO A RED-HAIRED LADY PAGE I. Comet, shake out your locks and let them flare 1 II. Plunge shaded eyes adown the flaming past 2 III. Old Titian loved your sort of fiery mop 3 IV. A golden strangeness through the night is shed 4 V. Suzanne, I bid you fling aside your comb 7 VI. My Torchlight Dame! My Frail Incomparable! .... 8 VII. I saw some bright flowers sway- ing in the park .... 11 Vni. There is a freckle just below thine ear 12 IX. All ardors of the flaming dawn are thine 15 X. Some blind and witless boobs, Caloric Cutey .... 16 vii viii Contents PAGE XI. My Blazing Jewel ! in thee all gems have part .... 19 XII. Sun of my Heaven! Harvest Moon of love! 20 XIII. When I approach the chill Le- thean River 23 XIV. When I grow older will you be my wife? 24 XV. Suzanne, I bring you ornaments of jade 27 XVI. Against what background should I paint your head.? . 28 XVII. Dante for Beatrice sang his solemn story 31 XVIII. If I were blind, my spirit still would see » 32 XIX. All ardours, prisms, glamours, gems of gold 33 XX. Suzanne, give me a lock of that bright hair! ... 34 XXI. O lovely Griddle where my Cakes of Song .... 35 XXII. As the mad lark rises, drunk with song and sun ... 36 XXIII. You are a Torchlight Rally, Susan! Flare! 37 Contents IX XXIV. I had a dream, and in the dream they said ... 38 XXV. Since first man's eyes unsealed were in sight .... 41 XXVI. Suzanne, my Beard is Blue, whether I shave ... 42 XXVII. Blue is my Beard, Suzanne; my Beard is Blue! ... 45 XXVIII. Splendour Incarnate! Great Auroral Blaze ! . . . . 46 XXIX. Thy motion fills the eye with minstrelsy 47 XXX. Your mother, turning to me suddenly 48 XXXI. Why do you let Mose Billups call you "Sue"? ... 51 ' XXXII. When Dian o'er the purple ocean springs .... 52 XXXIII. The poet blots the end the jester wrote 55 XXXIV. I did not wish to love thee, for I hate 56 XXXV. Strip off my mask of laughter from my face .... 57 XXXVI. Warned by a thousand dreams, I took no heed. 58 CONTENTS FAMOUS LOVE AFFAIRS PAGE Paris and Helen 61 King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid . 67 Tristram and Isolt 73 Othello and Desdemona 81 Antony and Cleopatra 84 Cleopatra on Mrs. Marc Antony . . 89 Queen Elizabeth Interviewed ... 97 Romeo and Juliet 103 Petrarch and Laura 107 Hero and Leander 112 Adam and Eve 119 Lancelot and Guinevere 122 Solomon and Balkis 126 Dido and iEneas 130 Harlequin and Columbine .... 136 LIST OF TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS " Suzanne, my beard is blue " . Frontispiece " I canned her, Sue " *' Would fuss with herpieide "... " I steer by you " " I soaked the poor girl in a vat of lotion' " I took a club and chased the girl away' " This lowbrowed world " . . . . "As I await old Charon's hydro-flivver' " Before you snowed so over all " " 'Susan was the Ace '" "Drawn together by some cubist" . "Above the clutching hands of fate " "Something kindred in me jumps and sings" " Paris was a pretty gent " . . . . " Drink chalice after chalice "... " Rode by her palace on a day " . . " 'I need some drammer' " . . . . " In rushing from the palace "... " 'I cannot live a year without her' " " He would do fancy swimmin' " . "Adam was a handsome lad " . . . " Too intimate to write on '* ... 5 9 10 13 17 21 25 29 39 43 49 53 63 69 75 85 95 109 113 117 131 SONNETS TO A RED-HAIRED LADY Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady I. Comet, shake out your locks and let them flare Across the startled heaven of my soul ! Pluck out the hairpins, Sue, and let her roll ! Don't be so stingy with your blooming hair. But let the whole created cosmos share The glory of its colour, flashed and swirled Like nets of sunset flung to mesh a world. . . . Don't wear it in a little wad up there! And yet, Suzanne, my comet and my star. At times restrain those locks a little, too. . . . My First Wife let her hair go quite too far In culinary ways. I beaned her. Sue. . . . She looked so wistful as she passed away. That dear, lost woman. Sue! Ah, welladay! 1 2 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady n. Plunge shaded eyes adown the flaming past And lamp the locks that set the world afire: — O wig that touched off Troy! O Dido's pyre. Where flame was given back to flame at last! O love that lashed Ulysses to the mast What time the red-head Sirens smote the lyre! O simps that used to simmer and perspire When Mary Stuart's furnace ran full blast! My Second Wife would very often say: "There's nothing — nothing — I can do with it Just after it's been washed!" Ah, wella- day! Sometimes I've thought 'twas almost wrong to hit A woman hard ... I mention this to you Merely in pensive reminiscence, Sue. Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 3 m. Old Titian loved your sort of fiery mop, And down hie leagues of canvas, crowned with flame, Walks one long pageant of Torchlight Dame, Nor hath Oblivion any traffic cop To bid that bright procession swerve or stop . . . I've heard your brother call you Burning Shame : Some day I'll bend that poor simp's vital frame Beyond repair ! Suzanne, sweet Carrot Top, When we are wedded, prithee, don't allow Your idiot relations near our house . . . My Third Wife's father wagged a silly pow In all our councils, Susan. Welladay! They he in one grave now, my erstwhile spouse. And he, her sire, who gave the bride away. 4 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady IV. A GOLDEN strangeness through the nights is shed When Summer merges into harvest-time. The white moon ripens to a globe of red And human blood grows quick for love or crime — That sanguine sphere has swung too close to earth And flushed the lucent dews of dusk with wine, A sudden madness mingles with men's mirth And pagan fancies walk the wild moon- shine. . . . So am I troubled and not wholly sane To see your red head floating like that moon; The notions melt and spread inside my brain Till I am crazy as the well-known loon. . . . My Fourth Wife left me with the moon that way; Some say I slew her, Sue! Ah, welladay! *' / canned her, Sue ' 5 Sonnets to a Bed-Haired Lady 7 V. Suzanne, I bid you fling aside your comb And down the wind let stream your burn- ing hair! My soul, perchance, through midnights of despair. May see it, Sultry Kid, and flutter home! Or is there danger in that flaming dome? . . . Suppose I fluttered moth-like, frying there Unto a crackling, Susan! . . . would you care. My pink-beaned Venus crowned with fiery foam? My Fifth Wife had a wad of hair herself; She used to wash and wash and wash the stuff; I canned her, Sue; I put her on the shelf; I like clean hair, but still, enough's enough. . . . She'd get it dry the radiator way. . . . How these old griefs return! Ah, welladay! 8 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady VI. My Torchlight Dame ! My Frail Incom- parable! My sunset Afterglow! My Aureole! Does your head symbolize your ardent soul? Then must your spirit sting its earthly shell As hot as pepper-sauce that's served in hell! Shake out those billowy flames and let *em roU Across the world until the very Pole Melts into love and steams beneath their spell! My Sixth Wife, Sue, would fuss with her- picide; I loathe the odor; in the kindliest way I choked her; she forgave me as she died. . . . How these old memories throng! Ah, welladay ! I do not wish to cloud our love with gloom. But, Sue, avoid all unguents and perfume. *' Would fuss with herpicide'* "/ steer hy you] 10 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 11 vn. I SAW some bright flowers swaying in the park 'And thought how hke their life your red locks blow. . . . My Flame! My Sunrise and mine After- glow! My genial Hearthfire blazing through the dark! My Gaudy Kid! Upon Ufe's headlands, stark And bleak, over the treacherous tides that flow, A beacon light your Fiery Bean doth throw. . . . I steer by you and save my giddy bark. How I should hate it. Lighthouse tall and shm. If you should cut your hair and dim your fire I My Seventh Wife did that; she doused her ghm. And dousing it, she damped my soul's desire — I took a brick and shaved the rest away, But still her memory stirs me. . . . Well- aday! 12 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady Yin. There is a freckle just below thine ear That might have been a theme for Shake- speare's art . . . A fleck of gold out of thy golden heart, A stain that makes thy stainlessness more dear, Tossed by thy tidal blood as flotsam here In its warm voyage through every lovely part . . . Hang Shakespeare, Sue! And don't let freckles start! I'd just as lief see optics with a blear. Your hair's your one best bet. Hold on to that. My Eighth Wife had that silly freckle notion . . . I soaked the poor girl in a vat of lotion So much that presently she pined away. . . . She never had been very strong nor fat. . . . These dear dead women, Sue! Ah, well- aday! / soaked the poor girl in a vat of lotion ' 13 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 15 IX. All ardors of the flaming dawn are thine. Its glamours blended in thy glowing hair! And sunset winds within thy blowing hair Have twined and woven all the sunset's shine! And all the quick and kindling heart of wine And heat of wit are in thy flowing hair. . . . Suzanne, be sure you keep that growing hair: — If you turn bald you never can be mine! My Ninth Wife used peroxide on her bean . . . She had bad luck; it turned her wig bright green . . . I took a club and chased the girl away. Although the poor thing pleaded hard to stay. . . . Suzanne, I hope you'll never make a scene. They grieve one later. Sue. Ah, welladay ! 16 Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady X. Some blind and witless boobs, Caloric Cutey, Are moved to scorn red hair, to spoof and mock . . . Not I . . . 'Od'swounds! ... it biffs me with a shock Electric, overwhelming me with beauty. My soul (your salamander. Tootsy too ty !) In fancy dwells 'twixt lock and burning lock . . . And had I twenty souls the whole derned flock Were yours, O Flame that nevermore grows sooty! My Tenth Wife bobbed her hair ... I got an axe And just for that I bobbed the lady's head! Alas ! the memory of sweethearts dead Still from love's current largesse claims a tax! I hope we will not part in just that way, Suzanne . . . But who can tell? Ah, well- aday! "/ took a club and chased the girl away 17 Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 19 XI. My Blazing Jewel! in thee all gems have part : Red garnets and red rubies hot and bold. Enkindling diamond and mellow gold. Quick levin flickering at the opal's heart. And the prismed crystal's fiery-edged dart, All blent to dazzle him that dares be- hold. . . . A Red Head, says the world, will always scold . . . This lowbrowed world! It thinks it's Awful Smart! Ah me! that sad Eleventh Wife of mine! She nagged me, in a shrill, high, tinny tone, Until I hogtied her with hammock twine And bound her, talking, to a gramophone. Within a cell where each jaws each alway . . . These voices of the past! Ah, welladay! 20 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XII. Sun of my Heaven ! Harvest Moon of love! Bright Planet! Comet! . . . whether earth or sky I scan, your Pink Bean meets my spirit's eye, O peer of flowers beneath and stars above! Aphrodite's Crimson-Crested Dove, 1 love you as New Englanders love pie! Vesuvius Girl! your fiery head fling high And give yon leering Zenith's face a shove ! My Twelfth Wife used to go about with twisters Of kid upon her hair to keep it curley . , . I pulled it all out by the roots . . . Poor girlie ! Her baldness rather shocked her aunts and sisters . . . She died soon after . . . Ah, that's woman's way! They leave us flat so often! Welladay! " This lowbrowed world 21 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 23 xni. When I approach the chill Lethean river And stand, all astral gooseflesh, on the brim, Will your Red Head shine for me through the dim Damp shadows where I rub my soul and shiver As I await old Charon's hydro-flivver? A Lighthouse on the Other Shore? A Glim Of warmth and courage o'er the waters grim? Will you be mine on Earth and mine Forever? Suzanne, I hope things will not go so far . . . My Thirteenth Wife would say: "Eternity, My spouse, is not too long for you and me! " It made me writhe ! I painted her with tar And touched her off and watched her blaze away. . . . How love's old embers burn! Ah, well- aday! 24 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XIV. When I grow older will you be my wife? Not now, Suzanne ... in twenty years or more. Unless I change my mind, I'd like you for A Bonfire in the Autumn of my Life. But, no! You may be faded then with strife Of living . . . marry another, I implore! And raise me up your daughter to adore. Red Haired, with your own candent beauty rife. My Fourteenth Wife had unresponsive hair, As drab in tone, inert to touch, as clay; She wore it in an ugly little knot; She had a morbid interest in prayer. Which vexed me so I had to have her shot. . . . She's with the angels now! Ah, welladay! *'As I await old Charon's hydro-Jliwer' 25 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 27 XV. Suzanne, I bring you ornaments of jade, Dark green to mingle with the shifting green Of your cat's eyes. You are a cat, my Queen, White-toothed and tigerish . . . but I'm afraid Sometimes the part's a trifle overplayed. Some day, when you decide you'll make a scene. Some one will bend a poker o'er your bean And you will lead a solemn street parade. Don't get too temperamental, Susan dear, With me! You dress the part that fits your hair. But don't scratch, Sue, nor get upon your ear. Nor be too serious with that Feline Stare! My Fifteenth Wife would kid herself that way . . . But she has left me, Susan! Welladay ! 28 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XVI. Against what background should I paint your head? . . . Relieved upon such paler gold as falls Through groined and mullioned windows on the walls Of storied minsters, crumbling like their dead? I will not paint it, Kid ! Your sort of red. As full of pep as redhot cannon-balls, Titians must splash across the frescoed halls. . . . Mine ain't the art for it, when all is said. My Sixteenth Wife told every one that called : "When I was married my hair was so long That I could sit on it!" The story palled In time, and she that told it stole away Into Oblivion . . . haply I did wrong To choke her with that hair? Ah, wella- day! ^Before you snowed so over all** 29 Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 31 XVII. Dante for Beatrice sang his solemn story, Dan for Beersheba all his poems wrote. Alpha in fair Omega's praises smote The lyre, and Petrarch jollied little Laurie . . . Suzanne, I'll make you famous, too, b'gorry ! Like other Well-EInown Couples of great note. Your earnest, honest and industrious Pote Will cover both himself and you with glory! Alas! my frail Wife Number Seventeen . . . In memory still I see her dandruff fall ! "I loved you once," I told her, "O, my queen! That was before you snowed so over all The house . . . now. Human Blizzard, blow away!" She blew. Her memory lingers . . . Well- aday! 32 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XVIII. If I were blind, my spirit still would see Thy being break my midnight with its glow . . . If I were lying dead I still would know A warm difference didst thou pause by me. So strong the glorious vital heat of thee! Caloric Kid! you melt the winter's snow. . . I would sit up and want to be your Beau Even if drunk, O Incandescent She! My Eighteenth Wife dropped hairpins by the score. Pitter-patter, everywhere she ambled. Jingle- jangle, everywhere she rambled. Sidewalk, table, hammock, chair and floor . . . I drove a dozen in her head in play One time . . . She took it serious . . , Welladay! Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 33 XIX. All ardours, prisms, glamours,gemsof gold, All flame of wit and fiery blood of wine Have blent their brightness in that hair of thine ! Worn as thy woven crown, or all unrolled And blown by amorous winds grown over- bold, It gives the twilight back the morning's shine, And all fresh hearts put tendrils forth to twine Them with thy living glory, fold on fold. Thy hair! ... it falls in tides of turbu- lence Across the lyric wonder of thy throat. In tides that drown my dazzled vision's sense . . . Said Wife Nineteen : " Your sonnets get my goat!" I cried: "Your hair is like drab-coloured hay!" I choked her with it. Sue . . . Ah, well- aday! 34 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XX. Suzanne, give me a lock of that bright hair! Shear from the burning frame about thy face One vital flame, one strand of living grace. And it shall warm me until death, I swear! Trust me, Suzanne, to handle it with care — I have had made a cute asbestos case : Over my heart the keepsake shall have place. Sewed in the winter flannels that I wear. My Twentieth Wife had all too pallid lashes, And her thin eyebrows, too, were almost white. I shaved them ofiF . . . some incidental gashes Made her to moan and murmur all that night. And with the dawn her spirit passed a- way . . . How fragile women are! Ah, welladay! Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 35 XXI. O LOVELY Griddle where my Cakes of Song Are baked! O Gulf Stream of my ocean deep! O Human Thermos Bottle ! will you keep My love as hot as this our whole lives long? Or will the slow years moderate the strong Caloric currents? . . . gradual years that creep To frost Love's tootsies where he lies asleep . . . Shall our fate be that of the common throng? Well, you at least will live in memory; And that, Suzanne, is more than I can say Of my Wife Nupiber Twenty-one, for she Out of my mind has faded quite away. Too vague to be a ghost! She worshipped me. No doubt . . . but onie forgets ! Ah, well- aday! 36 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XXII. As THE mad lark rises, drunk with song and sun. When morning bends above the dewy meadow. And his clear call proclaims: "The Day is won!" Over a hurrying rout of driven shadow, So likewise do I sing, my Sugar-Bun, When your red bean floats into sight, sweet Kiddo ! It fills me full of joy . . . it makes me, Hon, As happy as a Million Dollar Widow ! My Twenty-second Wife wore nightcaps. Sue . . . Frilled things, with cherry-coloured ribbons stuck Upon them. When I pulled one off, as luck Would have it, why the lady's head came too! Anger made me too rough, as anger may. No doubt. So died our romance! Well- aday! Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 37 XXIII. You are a Torchlight Rally, Susan! Flare! I'll be your Given Point, my Torchlight Dame . . . Do you pass by me, crowned with fiery fame. And you will keep me happy sitting there Unto eternity, to watch your glare! I am a Bug! I am your Moth for flame! Pete Pyromania is my middle name — Gosh-ding it, Sue, I like your kind of hair! Ah, Twenty-three! that fateful number cursed My third-and-twentieth marriage from the first! Scarce were the orange blossoms off her when I found those blossoms had concealed a wen . . . Ah, twenty-three! In my rough, kindly way I played the surgeon, Susan . . . Well- aday! 38 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XXIV. I HAD a dream, and in the dream they said You were no more, and took me to the place Where you lay buried; over your bright face Bright grasses grew, and bright flowers nourished Out of the lovehness of your bright head — And as I stood there, weeping for a space, A faint voice murmured, "Susan was the Ace Of all those more than ninety wives you wed!" The number on your tomb was Ninety- two! My Four-and-Twentieth Wife I took in play And showed her where her predecessors lay. One time . . . Why do I tell you these things, Sue? I don't believe in dreams. Sweetheart, do you? But still they make one pensive! . . . Well- aday ! jT ~7 ^ ft M v\l 1 IVi) ^ _j jH m '** Susan was the Ace Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 41 XXV. Since first man's eyes unsealed were in sight One word has been the symbol of his hope; Wanting that word, the soul itself must grope In a thick speechlessness as blank as night. Seeking to say itself : That word is " Light ! '* Suzanne, were I Hell's darkest misan- thrope And your red head came bobbing up the slope, I'd cry, "Cheer O! Here's Sue! Thmgs are all right!" Old kid, I spoof you frightfully, I know. But underneath it all . . . you get me, Sue? Wife Twenty-five had hair that turned to snow Because I joshed her just as I josh you . . . But you, you like my playful little way ! Some hearts were broken by it! Welladay! 42 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XXVI. Suzanne, my Beard is Blue, whether I shave It close or let it float ambrosial on The breeze like sprays of lilac cloud at dawn . . . Blue as the tossed and curled and ravelled wave. Reef -combed, that coils about some ocean cave Where the coy smelt creeps to woo the flattered prawn .... Sooze, what a poster we would make if drawn Together by some cubist loud and brave! If drawn together. Sue! The artist. Fate, Has drawn and scrambled us in just that way . . . Wife Twenty-Six wore on her desert pate A wig ... I tied it to an opera chair One night; and when she rose it dangled there And left her bald and broken. . . Wella- day! ^h "Drawn together by some cubist" 43 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 45 XXVII. Blue is my Beard, Suzanne; my Beard is Blue! Blue as the nose that graduate drunkards wear . . . Blue as the tumbled meadows of wide air Pallas Athene's chariot plunges through. . . (I don't know why I drag in Pallas, Sue, Except the name sounds rather flossy there) . . . With my Blue Beard and with your Crim- son Hair, Affinities predestined, Me and You! Mayhap I've told you why Wife Twenty- seven Left me to mourn and climbed the starry way Up from a thirty-dollar flat to Heaven!^ — Suzanne, the woman carelessly turned gray! I gently slew her one sweet Autumn even. . . These poignant old regrets! Ah, Wella- day! 46 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XXVIII. Splendour Incarnate! Great Auroral Blaze! Pillar of Fire, that through my mortal night Still burns to give my groping spirit sight, I'm gonna bean your Dad one of these days! "Carrots," I heard him call you, and amaze That such a Ribald Boob, by no means bright, Should be your parent overwhelmed me quite. "Carrots," he called you! Blast his vul- gar ways! Listen, Suzanne: he'd better get a job! He cannot board with us when we are wed. That pear-nosed, goat - chinned, fish - mouthed, prune-eyed slob! My Twenty -eighth Wife had a Dad I fed: They ate and ate until both passed away Through eating Prussia Acid . . . Well- aday ! Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 47 XXIX. Thy motion fills the eye with minstrelsy, As if thou wert a Song one could behold. . . Proud sails of Venice steeped in ruddy gold. Singing their colour down the charmed sea. Move onward clad in music like to thee . . . As long as you can keep from getting old I'm for you, Brick-Topped Sue, nor shall grow cold, Pink-Domed Theme for my Hyperbole! My Twenty-ninth Wife used to change and change And change the way she wore her hair and say: "Now, donH you like it better, Love, this She seemed exhaustless in her hirsute range . . . 1 scalped her, Susie dear . . . Ah, Well- aday! How sweet old memories are, how rare and strange! 48 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XXX. Your mother, turning to me suddenly, Caught the broad sunset on her triple chin And nigh her ample and too friendly grin. Where cheek joins neck in blown obesity, A faint red whisker was confessed to me. Suzanne! if you should feel a beard begin Be resolute and to the hilts thrust in These silvern tweezers that I send to thee . . . And if nor strength nor sleight of art avail, Oh, still be resolute, Suzanne, and play The nobler part; a dagger here I lay Beside the tweezers, Sue . . . My Thir- tieth's tale Deals with a Wart that naught could charm away; A tale so sad, so sadl Ah, Welladay ! ''Above the clutching hands of Fate" Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 51 XXXI. Why do you let Mose Billups call you "Sue?" That rodent-minded, mutt-faced, wolf- eared Mose, That muddy blackhead on Life's pitted nose. That dull negation of the good and true ! Yes, I have heard him call you "Soosie," too! And once he said you were "a fullblown rose" . . . Good Gawd! to fall for phrases such as those When I write Sonnets such as these to you ! Suzanne, perhaps you don't appreciate The fact that I, in this immortal rhyme, Lift you above the clutching hands of Fate And make you bronze to blunt the edge of Time! Some of my earlier wives were blind that way . . . Where are they now? Alas! and Welladay! 52 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady XXXII. When Dian o'er the purple ocean springs The porpoise spouts in glee, the penguins crow, And all the glad sea lions leap and blow Their trumpets till the well-known welkin rings. And something kindred in me jumps and sings, Suzanne, when your red bean's supernal glow Flings heavenly light about you as you go Across the beach in your new bathing things. 'Tis more than what you wear, or even what You do not wear, that stirs my lyric blood ; You are my moon, my planet bright and hot, I'm like the wallowing creatures of the flood: The tidal moods of me you mete and sway. One wife would bathe in stockings! Well- aday! "Something kindred in me jumps and sings'* 53 Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady 55 XXXIII. The poet blots the end the jester wrote: For now I drop the dull quip's forced pretence, Forego the perch'd fool's dubious emi- nence — Thy tresses I have sung, that fall and float Across the lyric wonder of thy throat In dangerous tides of golden turbulence Wherein a man might drown him, soul and sense, Is not their beauty worth one honest note? And thee, thyself, what shall I say of thee? — Are thy snares strong, and will thy bonds endure? Thou hast the sense, hast thou the soul of me? In subtle webs and silken arts obscure Thou hast the sense of me, but canst thou bind The scornful pinions of my laughing mind? 56 Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady XXXIV. I DID not wish to love thee, for I hate To have a woman clinging to my soul : My gods have made it hard to seek their goal Without the burden of that added weight. Some men there be, triumphant over fate. Who say they gain more freedom through control Of a binding love that dominates the whole Of them; I find it hard to abdicate — Will Love let no man call his soul his own? Wliether I walk in shadow or in sun My spirit dies unless I walk alone; I loathe this cant that says two souls grow one But thou wilt call it infidelity Unless I share my jealous gods with thee. Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady 57 XXXV. Strip off my mask of laughter from my face And find it seamed with stark reahties: The eye absorbs the soul of what it sees, And I stare long at things whose bleaker grace Seldom in woman's warmer realm has place — Thy days are rapt with mortal mysteries; I dwell among austere philosophies, Dreaming of life and time and death and space. Old gods resurgent, music visible; Serene, aloof and chill I love to sit, Tranced in a thought of heaven and earth and hell; My dreams I hedge about with bitter wit. Passion I understand, but ask not Faith — How quick I'd leave thee for some Muse's wraith ! 58 Sonnets to a Red-H aired Lady XXXVI. Warned by a thousand dreams, I took no heed. But failed to fence my soul away from thee; Mine inner being guessed what thou couldst be. Brooding upon an unacknowledged need — And now the hush'd thought trembles toward a deed: For sudden beauty bursteth over me As a great wave fraught with magic of the sea. And I, w ho was a rock, I seem a reed ! But even a tower were shaken with this stress Of gathered tides unloos'd in love's as- sault — Of gathered tides: more than thy loveliness O'erwhelms and puts my bleak resolves to fault: All women loved before, all loves denied. Weigh in the surge that batters down my pride! FAMOUS LOVE AFFAIRS PARIS AND HELEN Paris was a pretty gent, His lamps were quite hypnotic; He used the most expensive scent; His tastes were . . , well, erotic. Helen was a timid skirt. All she asked was quiet . But, if simps will try to flirt. Can ladies start a riot? Now should a frail, or wise, or coy. Or innocent of folly. Scream because some Honey Boy Hands her out a jolly? This Paris had a black mustache, I think I ought to mention . . . Once Helen drooped a blonde eyelash : It drooped without intention . . . 61 62 Famous Love Afairs But he pretended for to think She drooped it of election : — "Ah, ha!" he cried, "you wink! you wink! Then buss me, Greek confection!" Which took the lady by surprise, And striving to expound it, She winked again, with both her eyes — And bussed him too, confound it! She slapped him then, and told the guy, "Villian, you unhand me!" And he looked grieved and made reply, "You misunderstand me!" "O, prithee, do not think," she cried, "That I kiss gent'men chronic!" "I know — trust me" — returned the Snide, "Your buss was but Platonic!" With smooth remarks like that he laid Her natural suspicion . . . It was a devil's part he played ! Nor did he feel contrition. **Paris was a pretty genV 63 Famous Love Affairs 65 He'd take her to see shows as hot As if they had been peppered; She'd blush . . . he never changed a spot : He was a Moral Leopard ! And oft, with blushes that would make Her brow and cheek and chin burn, She'd listen while this Subtile Snake Lisped her the Pomes of Swinburne. Now Helen's husband saw them kiss . . A sandy man, well gingered . . . And after several years of this. Says he, "I think I'm injured!" This husband was a man of strength . Few characters were finer . . . And when she left her home at length. Traced her to Asia Minor. Bill Homer's told the rest, I think . Fights and fires and phrases . . . What started out with Helen's wink Wound up with Hell 'n' blazes! 66 Famous Love Affairs The moral of the tale is this: That mayhem, death and arson Have followed many a thoughtless kiss Not sanctioned by a parson ! KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID CoPHETUA was a merry King, And slightly sentimental; His morals were (if anything) What some call "Oriental." Zenelophon, the Beggar GoU, Was innocent and careful; She had been reared to Honest Toil By parents poor and prayerful. For Papa peddled lemonade While Mamma laundered laundry, And she had been a solder maid Within a muzzle foundry; But, oh! the foreman of the staff Had tried to Make Advances . . . The Villain used to smirk and chaff And ask her out to dances! . . . 67 68 Famous Love Affairs And so she quit the Hellish Place And went salvationarming, A careful smile upon her face So innocent and charming. While begging in a Beer Saloon Right opposite the palace She saw the King one afternoon Drink chalice after chalice — (He dallied daily with the Jug, He hit the pipe and gambled. He introduced the bunny-hug As round his realm he rambled) — Eftsoons the Monarch, reeling by Imperially laden. Remarked, iniquitous and sly, "Pray, buss me. Beggar Maiden!" "Not I!" she cried, "I'd rather go Right back to making muzzles Than kiss a King that roisters so And gambles, flirts and guzzles!" ^'Drink chalice after chalice' 69 Famous Love A fairs 71 The Regal Cut-up, in a mood Majestically reckless, Then oflFered her a samite snood, A duchy and a necklace. "Oh, keep your Royal Gauds," she said, "And buss your legal spouses! I won't kiss none until I'm wed. Especial if they're souses!" With that he laid his sceptre down Beneath her footsy-wootsies — "Oh, wed me, and I'll fling muh crown Before them pretty tootsies!" "O King!" says she, "you have some queens!" Says he, "They're soon beheaded!" That day his headsman reaped their beans, The next the King was wedded. And Mrs. King Cophetua made All parties quit their vices, And Papa's private lemonade Soon rose to fancy prices. 72 Famous Love Affairs And Mamma laundered for the Eong As happy as a linnet — Oh, Virtue always wins, I sing. If Wisdom's mingled in it! TRISTRAM AND ISOLT I. Sm Tristram was a Bear, in listed field Or lady's bower, Champeen with sword or song; All that life's traffic could be made to yield Trist took; he'd tell some Sweet Thing, "You belong!" And with that word he'd cop her from the throng. Boudoir or tourney, tea or dancing green, He never kept them waiting very long; Nor Foe nor Frail had really turned his bean Until he lamped King Mark of Cornwall's sprightly Queen. II. Mark was a Pill. His Little Dame had Class . . . One of those Unions that neglect to Une . . . She was a Saint ! He was a Hound ! Alas, 78 74 Famous Love Affairs That such a Peach should marry such a Prune! Why did she stick? Who knows the in- ward tune To which these women march? We know, at least, Mark had a Wad, and bought her gowns and shoon .... Also, one eats or one is soon deceased. . . . Mayhap it was a case of Booty and the Beast! III. Tristram rode by her palace on a day When some young angel leaned from Paradise And loved the earth and laughed and made it May; And Izzy saw his lovely purple eyes — Not the young angel's: Tristram's; other- wise She might have flagged the angel for her Beau Instead of Tristram. Ah! what tears and sighs Were saved if women never looked below The angels . . . yet, no doubt, at times they'd find it slow. tw ^V"-^ "Rode by her palace on a day** 76 Famous Love Affairs 77 IV. As SHE gave him the rapt Once Over, he Felt all his bounding pulses pause, then fill With love as tidal creeks flood from the sea. . . . Sir Tristram, if you get me, got Some Thrill. . . . One jump and he was at her window-sill, The Sudden Cuss! "Divinity!" he said, "Newly descended from th' Olympian HiU, I'm yourn! Say, are you single? Are you wed.f^ If so, where is your Spouse? — I'll go and chop his head!" V. "I'm not Olympian, sir," she said, "but only Of this hick realm the melancholy Queen. You love me. Stranger? Thanks! I get so lonely! As for your kindly offer to unbean My liege lord, 'Ataboy ! I loathe a Scene, 78 Famous Love Affairs As all Nice Women should, but this is Fate! No girl can dodge her destiny, I ween. . . Or do I dream? Pinch me! — Ouch! DonH! Tdhate To have you get some Horrid Notion in your pate! VI. **I KNOW you'll think me Unconvention- al!"— "What are Conventions 'twixt Affini- ties.?"— "I always thought love was more grad- ual!"— "Let Temperate Zones grow warmer by degrees, But why should we Equators think of these.?"— "Why does your mustache taste that funny way ?" — "Something the barber does." — "Stop him ! "— " Say pZecwe .^ "— "Please, then — and could you murder Mark to-day?"— "I'll cut his throat 'mid the sweet twi- light's tender gray!" — Famous Love Affairs 79 VII. Ah, pretty prattle, innocent and artless! Sweet interchange as when lute answers lute! These cooing doves! what Fiend could be so heartless As wish to make their happy murmurs mute? What Fiend but Mark! That wicked, sly old brute. Whenever his fair wife would kiss a stranger. Would scowl at her and even stamp his boot. Or read her lectures on A Young Wife's Danger — When Home is Hell what wonder if Love proves a Ranger! VIII. The Spoilsport crept behind them as they kissed And slammed the window down across their necks, Nor any guardian spirit grabbed his wrist. And in one instant both of them were Wrecks! 80* Famous Love Affairs The sad tale's Moral goes for either sex: Don't spoon beneath a giddy guillotine If any one's about whom it may vex — Make love quite out of windows or quite in If you aspire to keep a chest below your chin. IX. And so they died, in Cornwall by the sea. Where tides asthmatic ever wheeze and snortle. And the damp tin miners going home to tea Still hear sometimes old Mark's com- placent chortle As his lean ghost by a ghostly window- portal Slams phantom sashes down and gloats and gloats. . . . And so they died, and so they are im- mortal, And in Elysian meadows feel their oats Forever ! Death can never get true lovers' goats! OTHELLO AND DESDEMONA Othello's heart was weathered oak. And so was his complexion; He was, no doubt, the Biggest Smoke In Venice's collection. He'd served Venezia's Duke, his liege. From Cyprus to Bologna, And 'twixt a battle and a siege Eloped with Desdemona. An F. F. v., this artless gal — First Family of Venice — Who played along the Grand Canal Splash, squash and water tennis. She was quite blonde. Her father said : "By Heaven, this is tragic! That Dinge could not have turned her head Unless he'd pulled some magic!*' 81 82 Famous Love Afairs "I pulled no stufiF that wasn't right- Us Tans and us Gamboges," Othello bragged, "can act as white As any pale-faced Doges!" Fate loosed upon this twain a man Of guile and gab, lago. More subtle, slick and sinful than A Buyer from Chicago. Insinuation was his game. He used to say: "Old Varnish, You better watch your Little Dame !- The brightest love will tarnish." Or else: "I could unfold a tale! But no . . . you'd think me boorish . You keep your eye upon that Frail . . . You watch her, Swart-and-Moorish!' No open charge, you understand — He named no wild young fellas — But hinted things behind his hand . It made Othello jealous. Famous Love Affairs 83 And so one night he killed his wife . . . Then learned he'd been mistaken . . . "Well, well," he murmured, "such is hfe!" It left him rather shaken . . . Her friends and kinfolks gathered round, And said: "Old Black-and-Tarry, You certainly have played the hound!" Othello said: "I'm sorry! "Alas! the pillows piled above The one I should 'a' cherished!" And saying so he opened of Himself with prayer, and perished. The moral is: Don't go and wed Some shine like this Othello, But let your parents pick a man Without a streak of yellow. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA Cleopatra Ptolemy's fad Was playing Aphrodite; From Hind to Italy she had The name of being flighty; She'd often send a bid to say: "On Friday is my wedding! Come . . . and stop till Saturday And witness the beheading." Scarce a beau could keep his bean Safe from axe or sickle .... Egypt smiled and said, "Our Queen Is just a trifle fickle!" Antony, the lucky wight, Was a Roman winner, Ladies used to scheme and fight To get the gink for dinner; 84 *' '/ need some drammer* " 85 Famous Love Affairs 87 Old medallions show him where He prances through the Corso With his glad, pomatumed hair And his noble torso. Waking one day sad with debt And blue with hatzenjammer He mused, "I've not seen Egypt yet. . . . I'll go; I need some drammer!" He found the Queen attending, bored, A morning tiger party, A farewell to a former lord . . . The guests were doing hearty. ... She saw him . . . he saw her . . . the rest, For neither was ascetic. Was Robert Chambers at his best — Some folks are so magnetic! Says she, "You stay in Egypt, kid. And can them Latin minxes — I'll deed to you a pyramid And half a dozen Sphinxes!" 88 Famous Love Affairs Says he, " You keep your trinkets, ma*am, I am not mercenary . . . I do not give a diadam For aught but you, my fairy!" Though Fate is skulking in the wings, Our Strong-Arm Tony clasps her . . Oh! let's be brief with tragic things . , Fate enters next, and asps her! CLEOPATRA ON MRS. MARC ANTONY Your representative has seen the Serpent of Old Nilus About the Antony Affair; and never has my stylus Been called upon before to sketch a char- acter so charming . . . Although, at times. Her Majesty has moods that are alarming .... **I Live my Own Life," Cleopatra said, "and my intent is To persevere in that respect; I'll follow what my bent is! "You say that Fulvia's suing me for eighty thousand dollars? A Woman who can't Hold her Husband always peeves and hollers! 89 90 Famous Love Affairs "But what a bourgeois thing to do! How common ! And how Roman ! By Isis, kid, a thoroughbred would put a price on no man!" The queen received me on the roof directly after dinner; She's looking . . . well, she is some queen! Perhaps a trifle thinner Than when she met Jule Caesar on that gink's Egyptian mission . . . The time he told his wife she'd ought to be above suspicion. . . . She gave me coffee in a cup carved from a single ruby; As she was pouring it a slave, a thick thumb-handed booby. Spilled some upon her royal neck, which rather riled our queenlet — She swung a jewelled scimitar and nicked his Nubian beanlet. . . . Famous Love Affairs 91 The Nile, below us, squirmed and flashed with phosphorescent fishes. And now and then a crocodile, content and unambitious. Would root against the palace steps and scratch his back and bellow. Or some lorn hippopotamus would warble for his fellow . . . And now and then, as we conversed, the queen, in merry mood O ! Would kick a courtier from the roof to give her^pets their food O! "I loathe Conventions," said the queen. "My Soul cannot be harried With Trivial Things ! I will not be Victor- ian, Trammelled, Married! "I gotta be Myself, old kid, and if as such I break up Some Home monogamous, what then? I cannot help my make-up! 92 Famous Love Affairs "Soul-mates are Soul-mates! Get me, kid? I always had a leaning Towards Freedom, kid! You otta Give your Love a Higher Meaning! " You got that down? I must express myself ! — And you might mention That to my mind there's nothing as wicked as Convention!" "Serpent," I said, "another point perhaps you'd care to answer: Fulvia has spread the word, from Capricorn to Cancer, "That while you have the will to be a reg'lar Moral Leper She has you faded, frail to frail, for pul- chritude and pepper — "She says, in short, your Work is Coarse, your tricks are out of kilter, And that you'd not 'a' trapped her Mark but that you used a philtre." Famous Love Affairs 93 "Did she say that?" Miss Ptolemy rose, ferocious as a Bulgar, Then calmed herself and murmured low: "My Gawd! How crude and vulgar! "You paint 'em blue, or chalk 'em white, or rub 'em with erasers, Their Commonplaceness will stick out on all these Commonplacers ! "This Mrs. Marcus Antony is really quite pathetic; It's Personality that wins, not Poses or Cosmetic — "But why should I get sore at her? I'll not descend to bandy Words with such a low-browed skirt . . . nor send her poisoned candy." And yet it seemed to me the queen, be- neath her calm external. Was somewhat stung: for as I left I heard a noise infernal : 94 Famous Love Affairs Next day I learned that she had loosed a large man eating tiger . . . A pet particular of hers brought northward from the Niger . . . Among her royal servants who, in rushing from the palace. Were met by waiting crocodiles. I think she harbours malice .... She took a dozen female slaves and named each "Mrs. Tony," And fed them to the ibises, and did it all- aloney ! Sometimes our little queen is calm, sweet- natured, soft and gentle; And then again she's something else . . . She calls it "Temper'mental." *'/w rushing from the palace** 95 QUEEN ELIZABETH INTERVIEWED Your Representative has seen Miss Queen Elizabeth, And talked with her of Marriage, Men and Mary Stuart's death. *Twas one of great Eliza's Spacious Days; she said her say At length, with point and heat — as always on a Spacious Day. "That httle red-head Stuart Minx," began the noble Queen, "The best day's work they ever did was amputate her bean! The blank-blanked little Green Eyed Cat! By Priam and by Hek, These royal hands of mine they ached to nick that woman's neck! She wasn't Moral, kid! And as Walt Raleigh used to say. Do what you d d well please, but do it ina Moral Way!" 97 98 Famous Love Affairs She paused and drank a quart of ale, and then Her Majesty — Without abating jot or tipple of her dignity- Leaned from her gilded throne and shied the dripping tankard at A lacy bishop's embonpoint, and knocked the varlet flat. Encouraged by her playful mood, the somewhat jovial tone That mingled so with majesty, as words wed to a lyre, A Chancellor pushed up to her a thick north country squire: "I knight you, Dub," the Queen remarked, and smashed his collar bone. The Queen is full of grace and charm and quaint, unstudied ways. Especially on what are known as Liza's Spacious Days. "'Od's blood!" the Queen went on, "I've heard some blank-blanked whey-faced ginks Have said I should have pardoned her; — but Mary was my Jinx! By gad!" . . . she banged the sceptre down and all the court turned pale . . . Famous Love Affairs 99 "The wight that mentions her is lucky if he goes to gaol ! That dame was always getting wed ! She'd dress up like a horse And flag a man and marry him! I think there's Something Coarse In any blank-blanked Princess that has Marriage on her bean — To hell with Men ! I've stayed Refined . . . I am the Virgin Queen ! The Earl of Essex used to say when he came here and dined, *I gotta hand it to Your Grace! Your Grace is so Refined!' " Your Representative, though trepidant, found heart to say : "Your regal dad viewed Marriage in a rather different way." "Yes, Dad," she said, "was crude and coarse, the time he reigned in, ruder — I've got to raise the average for the whole d d House of Tudor!" She broke a splinter from a stool that stood the throne beneath And quite reflectively she picked her lovely yellow teeth . . . 100 Famous Love Affairs Those teeth of which her Poets sing: Oh, ivory and gold! They shine like morning in her court ! Ah, wondrous to behold . . . And as she picked the Regal Teeth, Lord Burleigh ambled by, And, still reflectively, she flicked the splinter in his eye. "In former times the kings cut up like butchers, bards or tanners, But I have always tried to be a Model in my Manners. The Earl of Leicester used to say when he dropped in to dinner, 'My Liege's daintiness alone would make My Liege a Winner!' And also, please to state for me, I Pat- ronize the Arts — This whole damned palace here is cluttered up with Men of Parts. As Walter Raleigh used to say . . . when he came in to tea . . . 'I gotta hand it to Your Grace for Cultured Ways,' says he.'* Famous Love Affairs 101 Your Representative made haste to say — what is but true — "Of all the Great I've interviewed, ne'er did I interview A personage. Your Majesty, who had a thing on you!" "Don't flatter now!" she said, and smiled: and as she smiled a sort Of smiling sigh went whispering around the nervous court — For something of anxiety shows in the courtier's gaze When Great Elizabeth begins one of her Spacious Days. Beaumont and Fletcher trotted up, and kneeling by her throne. These Siamese Twins of Drama chanted in a dulcet tone Their latest song in praise of her, the Great Elizabeth . , . Her moods are changeable . . . she rose: "'Od's blood!" she cried: "'Od's Death!" 102 Famous Love Affairs And snatching off her coronet, when Beau- mont's mouth oped wide. With more than female force she jammed the jewelled knob inside . . . And catching up his weapon from a drows- ing halberdier She poked it part in Fletcher's eye and partly in his ear . . . "Ye bean-fed rogues," she said, "avaunt! Heraus! How didst thou dare In thy blank-blank-ed song to say thy Queen had golden hair? Hath it not been proclaimed to all, in village, thorpe and town. That on last Michaelmas the Queen's long yellow hair turned brown? " I thought it best to take my leave. " Your Majesty," I said, "Some monarchs would have had these beasts well boiled in oil instead." Whereon Sir Francis Walsingham said to Her Majesty: "They got to hand it to Your Grace for kindly leniency!" ROMEO AND JULIET Pop Montague's old brain was wried Through all its convolutions With constant thoughts of Homicide And kindred institutions. White-haired Giuseppi Capulet, Although he liked his daughter. The pert, precocious Juliet, Was fonder still of slaughter. Young Romeo was just designed To play Italian opera: A looker, with a tenor mind — A perfect star for Wopera. Each cutthroat father kept at hand, In their respective houses, A low-browed, cloaked, romantic band Of swordsmen, thugs and souses. 103 104 Famous Love Affairs "When ennui made Giuseppi sad He'd go a-Montagueing; Pop Montague's pertieler fad Was Capulet-pursuing. How could young lovers dodge their doom, With all these complications? They gravitated to the tomb To join their near relations. Their bloody story I might trace — How loved they but to rue it — • At length if I but had the face. But Shakespeare beat me to it. (They're Shakespeare's corpses — let him hop About his morgue and sort 'em — I'll start where he came to a stop And pull a brief post-mortem. Will for the dagger and the kiss. The poison and the quarrels. But my preoccupation is, Far more than Will's, with morals.) Famous Love Affairs 105 So when the feud had run its course And slain its scores and dozens The ancient cutthroats got remorse — And gave it to their cousins. Quoth Capulet: "We're here to-day- But where are we to-morrow?" Pop Montague would often say : "I feel a sort of sorrow!'* Remorse soon heightened to regret; They signed a bond one Monday- Old Montague and Capulet — To slay no man on Sunday! Their hearts grew softer with the years. Their mood grew kind and pensive — They mused, one morning, bathed in tears, "Some days, crime seems offensive!" Salt globules furrowed each lank cheek. They thought of son and daughter. And vowed that more than once a week They'd not indulge in slaughter. 106 Famous Love Affairs Upon their own reform they'd gloat. In consciousness of virtue. And murmur as they cut a throat: "I'm sorry if I hurt you!" Thus Montague and Capulet, They took to heart the lesson. And so the death of JuHet In some ways proved a blessin*. And this reform of which I speak Made them far less dejected — They stuck to murder once a week And died loved and respected! A PETRARCH AND LAURA A TASTE Francesco Petrarch had For dialects, and leeks, and verses. Though Laura was his best-known f ad . . . But Laura loved her Husband (Curses!) Through twenty long and tragic years That burned Francesco's soul like acid— (He melted several Alps with tears)— Laura remained at home . . . quite placid. She loved her Husband, Laura did: Please fix that vital fact securely. When Petrarch called her "Heavenly kid!" She'd blush and drop her eyes demurely. Not that he ever saw her more Than once or twice in any quarter . . . Food took his time, dialects, and war . . . For months she'd think he'd stopped it, sorter. 107 108 Famous Love Affairs Twas A. D. 1331 He studied Greek (historians say so) And sang, "She warms me like the sun!' And boned up P. Ovidius Naso. I think 'twas 1339 He learned the speech of Kurds and Coptics, And, flushed with love and Tuscan wine. Penned three canzoni to her optics. In 1328 he wrote, "I cannot live a year without her!" In 1346 1 note A similar remark about her. From thirteen-twenty-nine to thirt- Een-hundred-forty-eight she never (Though he septennial tried to flirt) Smiled once upon his bold endeavour. She loved her Husband. And her Home. She loved her Babes. She had eleven. While Petrarch wrote pome after pome — Sonnets three-hundred-twenty-seven ! " '/ cannot live a year without her* " 109 Famous Love Affairs 111 And all white-toothed Italia smiled, Commenting pleasantly upon it — "Dear Laura has another child!" "Hast lamped Petrarco's latest sonnet?" She perished: (1348). "Alas," he sighed, "I never kissed her!" His sonnets, onward from that date. Lead one to think he somehow missed her . . . She died, and Earth held little more : Vain all its garlic, gauds and laughter! He pined. In 1374, Not thirty years, he followed after. By Venus, in those Southern climes. How quick and reckless is love's fashion! In colder latitudes and times We dwell and learn to curb our passion. HERO AND LEANDER Leander in the Dardanelles Had rather race a dolphing Than idle with the other swells Or dance or go a-golfing. In church at Abydos one day, At a revival service, He saw young Hero, and the way He lamped her made her nervous. And after that, along the coast He would do fancy swimmin' Graceful enough to charm the most Fastidious of women; When she'd go bathing, dawn or dark. About her bathing station He'd frolic like a friendly shark, Or like a coy cetacean. 112 ^Ue would do fancy swimmin*' 113 Famous Love Affairs 115 What maiden's heart could long resist Such sweet and shy devotion? Full often, when he dived, she kissed And patted his pet ocean! Leander, on flirtation bent. Across the straits was floating One morning when her mother went To chaperon her boating: — "Oh, mother, may I marry him?" — "Oh, no, my darling daughter! When young Leander goes to swim Don't you go near the water!" Alas! that maids should disobey. Whom parents trust and bless so! Girls will be girls ... in Hero's day They were not any less so. Next time she heard him in the sea Snort like a loving grampus. Says she, "Swim over after tea — It's dark, and none can lamp us!" 116 Famous Love Affairs And after that, to light her love. She used to show a candle . . It grew to the dimensions of A reg'lar seashore scandal . . . But finally Neptune, Triton, or Some ordinary porpoise, Caught him a mile or two from shore And served a habeas corpus. The night was cold . . . the sea was damp . . . Alas, for him and Hero! The moral is: Don^t risk a cramp When the water's down to zero. SH **Adam was a handsome lad'* 117 ADAM AND EVE Adam was a handsome lad. Innocent and merry; Garden parties were his fad. And he was honest, very. Eve was rather artless; she Was also quite vivacious; She plucked her raiment from a tree Elseocarpaceous. Satan was a City Man, Wicked, dark-complected . , He paled as only villains can When Eve his love rejected. Satan was a chap who used To sin with conscious pride, O! He drank, he swore, he introduced The Boa Constrictor Glide, O! 119 120 Famous Love Affairs When she turned the fellow down. Though with rage he trembled, Satan smoothed away a frown. Smiled at her, dissembled . . . . But he'd think of it and curse While he drank or gambled; Thoughts of dark revenge he'd nurse As round the world he rambled. He muttered, "This is not the end; You'll repent it. Madam!" . . . But he posed as Family Friend When she wedded Adam. Years went by, and still he came Once a week to dinner; His outward mood was bland and tame. But evil was his inner. Quite informal he'd drop in. Dine and help do dishes . . . Who could think he planned a sin? Who'd believe him vicious? Famous Love Affairs 121 But every time he wiped a plate Or helped poor Adam buttle He'd sneer inside and meditate Something smooth and subtle.' At last he gained in Adam's house A plausible position; At last he lulled, in Adam's spouse. Her natural suspicion. He rooned 'em . . , then he gave a hiss, A glide and boa-constricted . . . Details are told in Genesis . . . I think they were evicted. LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE King Arthur was a steady king, Who loathed light talk or skittish. Respectable as anything, Strong 'eaded, blond and British. His Queen beside him on the throne, So golding 'aired and tidy. Would tip the beam at fourteen stone. And every ounce a lydy. Sir Lancelot was 'andsome, quite. The women all adored him — He tried to bear it like a knight. But being worshipped bored him. His big, bright shield was curved and bent And more tub-shaped than normal; He'd frequent halt a tournament And bathe, all stern and formal. 122 Famous Love Affairs 123 The knights, they might 'ave bashed 'im then While 'e was coldly scrubbing, But they were British gentlemen Respectful of his tubbing. 'E loved 'is Queen, and she confessed 'Is love reciprocated; It grieved 'em both . . . they did their best But could not feel elated. "My word," Sir Lancelot would sigh, "What rotten form to love 'er!" And then 'e'd gloom and say good-by . . . Retm'n . . . and gloom . . . and hover. The Queen would call 'erself a fraud — She hated loving, madly ! — "It's using Harthur bad . . . Oh, Gawd!" The Queen would mutter sadly. "To think," says he, "I'd act the same As any foreign bounder!" And moaning with a sense of shame He'd put his arm around 'er. 124 Famous Love Affairs She*d kiss him, while repentant tears Fell salt on his proboscis . . . For seventeen long mournful years They nobly bore their crosses . . . 'E moralized, grew thin, austere. And groaned, awake or sleeping; But she grew bloated, Guinevere, With self-reproach and weeping. When Honest Arthur learned the fac's It shocked him so completely The court opined they'd get the axe . . Instead, he took it sweetly . . . King Arthur says, "Me for the tomb. Where no disgrace can grab us!" The Queen crept sobbing from the room And went and was an Abbuss. And Lancelot, he moaned and said, "I 'ope no one will guy 'er! For me, I'll shave my blooming 'ead And go and be a friar." Famous Love Affairs 125 The moral is : Observe your bent. Your own traits mark and measure — If one has not the temperament Philandering isn't pleasure. SOLOMON AND BALKIS From Beersheba up to Dan Another such a caravan Dazed Palestine had never seen As that which bore Sabea's queen Out of the fain and flaming South To slake her yearning spirit's drouth At wisdom's pools, with Solomon. With gifts of scented sandal-wood And labdanum and cassia-bud, With spicy spoils of Araby And camel-loads of ivory And heavy cloths that glanced and shone With pearl inwrought and beryl-stone She came, a bold Sabean girl. And did she find him sad, or gay? Perchance his palace breathed that day With psalters sounding solemnly — Or cymbals' merrier minstrelsy — 126 Famous Love Affairs 127 Perchance the wearied monarch heard Some loose-tongued prophet's meddling word; — None knows, no one — but Solomon ! She looked — with eyes wherein were blent All ardours of the Orient; She spake — all magics of the South Were compassed in the witch's mouth; — He thought the scarlet lips of her More precious than En Gedi's myrrh. The lips of that Sabean girl. By many an amorous sun caressed, , From lifted brow to amber breast She gleamed in vivid loveliness — And lithe as any leopardess — And verily, one blames thee not If thine own proverbs were forgot, O Solomon, wise Solomon! She danced for him, and surely she Learnt dancing from some moonlit sea Where elfin vapours swirled and swayed While the wild pipes of witchcraft played 128 Famous Love Affairs Such clutching music 't would impel A prophet's self to dance to hell — So spun the light Sabean girl. He swore her laughter had the lilt Of chiming waters that are spilt In sprays of spurted melody From founts of carven porphyry, And in the billowy turbulence Of her dusk hair drowned soul and sense — Dark tides and deep, O Solomon ! Perchance unto her day belongs His poem called the Song of Songs, Each little lyric interval Timed to her pulse's rise and fall; — Or when he cried out wearily That all things end in vanity Did he mean that Sabean girl? The bright barbaric opulence. The sun-kist Temple, Kedar's tents, — How many a careless caravan From Beersheba up to Dan Within these forty centuries Has flimg their dust to many a breeze. With dust that was King Solomon! Famous Love Affairs 129 But still the lesson holds as true, O King! as when she lessoned you: That very wise men are not wise Until they read in folly^s eyes The wisdom that escapes the school. That bids the sage revise his rules By light of some Sabean girl I DroO AND ^NEAS uEneas was a cattle boy, And his career was checkered; Bull after bull, by roaring Troy, He threw, and copped the record. Troy down — and Helen tripping back. Remarried by the rector, To Greece — iEneas took his pack And beat it west, by Hector! He took a ship, and mal de mer From Colonel Neptune's ocean Crept up and shook his steamer chair And filled him with emotion. A storm came up — (and other things Too intimate to write on: When Triton spouts, both clowns and king Will spout right back at Triton.) 130 SHJ ** Too intimate to write on' 131 Famous Love Affairs 133 And in the straiter seas his craw. If anything, was iller — He lost his spirit when he saw Charybdis teasing Scyller. And so he climbed the raging seas. Green hummock after hummock. And got to Carthage, ill at ease And qualmish in the stomach. Queen Dido met him at the wharf And poured him out a potion; Says she: "You takes this bumper orf And you forgets the ocean!" He drank. He calmed. And then says he: "Old dear, I like that tunic!"— He doted on good clothes, and she Was portly, pink and Punic. She blushed, and then said with a smile: "Although I am Phoenician, I always try to dress in style," Says he: "You're more than Grecian!" 134 Famous Love Affairs Thus, like so many other gents, Who're pleasant when they're grateful. He fed her up with compliments. Not knowing they are fateful. For all he meant was gratitude. To pay her for her potion. But she construed his attitude To indicate devotion. He only tried to be pohte, Which charmed her . . . more*s the pity! ... And she'd assure him he was quite. Quite welcome to her city. Well, well, . . . his words went to her bean .... She led him to a cavern And mixed him drinks . . . the poor, dear Queen ! Folks sneered : " She runs a tavern ! '* He sailed one day . . . the royal frail Had even picked the parson! . . . It is a truly tragic tale; She killed herself with arson. Famous Love Affairs 135 Do not as serious construe, Fair maids, each small attention. Or there may come a fate to you Too turrible to mention! HARLEQUIN AND COLUMBINE When the soul of the year through its body of earth Burst forth in a bloom as of fire. And the butterflies rose in a rainbow riot of mirth To flutter and burn and take wing and aspire, To her garden our Columbine came . . . She was light as her laughter, and bright as blown flame — Flower, woman and music, and all these the same. Harlequin Was a wind of the Spring that came out of the dawn; He was air, he was whim, he was fancy and mirth. And his feet on the earth Were as fleet as the feet of a faun. 136 Famous Love Affairs 137 He was fickle as glimmers of starlight that shine On the waves of the rivers of dream; he was tricky as wine; He was pagan as Pan; A dancer, a lover, a liar, a wit, A poet, a satyr, an imp with the face of a man; And his heart was unstable as wings are that hft Where the dragonflies drift. His heart was as wings that turn, dartle and flit. And his loves were as swift. And into her garden he came like a spiral of wind that beats down in a shower Red flower and white flower . . . And their hearts were as swift as the doves in their flight. Their love was the love of the youth of the world . . . They mingled, they danced, they were shod with delight. They were sandalled with joy . . . She was hfted and whirled. 138 Famous Love Affairs She was flung, she was swirled, she was driven along By this carnival wind that had torn her away From the coronal bloom on the brow of the May In a whorl as of rapture . . . their danc- ing was visible Song! His moods were as light as the airs of the dawn; He loved for an hour, and was gone . . . What matter if flower and red flower Were flung down in a shower. And blossom, and blossoms, were trodden and dead? It was only a wind that had danced with a flower, When all's done and said! THE END :i;:"^ '^'':'^-^~'^'^%^tv/. '\-,. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS llllllllllllillilllilllllllll 015 940 728 7 <