I know that I have seen somewhere a beautiful and effective ballad of
Merril's. His "Chambre D'Amour" would be more interesting if Samain had
not written "L'Infante," but Merril's painting is perhaps interesting as
comparison. It begins:
Dans la chambre qui fleure un peu la bergamote,
Ce soir, lasse, la voix de l'ancien clavecin
Chevrote des refrains enfantins de gavotte.
There is a great mass of this poetry full of highly cultured house
furnishing; I think Catulle Mendès also wrote it. Merril's "Nocturne"
illustrates a mode of symbolistic writing which has been since played
out and parodied:
La blême lune allume en la mare qui luit,
Miroir des gloires d'or, un émoi d'incendie.
Tout dort. Seul, à mi-mort, un rossignol de nuit
Module en mal d'amour sa molle mélodie.
Plus ne vibrent les vents en le mystère vert
Des ramures. La lune a tu leurs voix nocturnes:
Mais à travers le deuil du feuillage entr'ouvert
Pleuvent les bleus baisers des astres taciturnes.
* * * * * * * *
There is no need to take this sort of tongue-twisting too seriously,
though it undoubtedly was so taken in Paris during the late eighties and
early nineties. He is better illustrated in "La Wallonie," vide infra.