Sully Prudhomme (1839–1907)

Translated by Arthur O’Shaughnessy

BEAUTY, that mak’st the body like a fane,

What gods have spurned thee, since thou fall’st thus low,

Lending thyself to harlots and thy glow

To deck dead hearts that cannot live again?

Made for the chaste and strong, didst thou in vain

Seek strength and purity, round such to throw

Thy glorious garb aright? and is it so

Thou robest sin and hidest falsehood’s stain?

Fly back to heaven; profane no more thy worth,

Nor drag down love and genius to base kneeling

At foot of courtezans when thee they seek.

Quit the white flock of women; and henceforth

Form shall be moulded upon truth, revealing

The soul, and truth upon the brow shall speak.