Yellow Nineties 2.0 The Savoy, Volume VIII.—December 1896 <editor>Lorraine Janzen Kooistra</editor> </titleStmt> <editionStmt> <edition> <date>2019</date> </edition> </editionStmt> <publicationStmt> <idno>SAVOYV8_23po</idno> <publisher>Yellow Nineties 2.0</publisher> <pubPlace>Ryerson University Centre for Digital Humanities</pubPlace> <address> <addrLine>English Department</addrLine> <addrLine>350 Victoria Street,</addrLine> <addrLine>Toronto ON,</addrLine> <addrLine>M5B 2K3</addrLine> <addrLine>Canada</addrLine> </address> <availability> <p>Usable according to the Creative Commons License <ref target="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/">Attribution Non-commercial Share-alike</ref>.</p> </availability> </publicationStmt> <sourceDesc> <biblStruct> <monogr> <editor>Symons, Arthur</editor> <author>Stéphane Mallarmé</author> <author>Symons, Arthur</author> <title level="j">Herodiade Leonard Smithers London December 1896 Mallarmé, Stéphane. "Hérodiade." Translated by Arthur Symons. The Savoy vol. 8, December 1896, pp. 67-68. Savoy Digital Edition, edited by Christopher Keep and Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2018-2020. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Ryerson University Centre for Digital Humanities, 2019. https://1890s.ca/savoyv8-symons-herodiade/

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 1896 English English literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals Great Britain -- Periodicals Poetry Possible Genres (multiple): "Fiction," "Nonfiction," "Poetry," "Paratext" (TOC, prospecti, advertisements, frontmatter, titlepage), "Review" (older reviews), "Criticism" (including critical introductions), "Visual Art" (images, bio images), Historiography (bios),"Bibliography" (intros, crit, bios, anything with a bibliography attached), "Drama," "Ephemera," "Translation," "Religion," "Travel Writing," "Music, Other,") Periodical Possible Types (singular): "Periodical" (texts/most stuff), "Interactive Resource" (current writing, biographies, not old reviews), "Still Image" (images, visual art), "Physical Object" (posters, prospecti) Book History Literature Possible Disciplines (multiple): "Book History (include for all periodical items)," "Literature," "Art History (use for art, also use for reviews)," "History (don't use in a general sense)," "Theatre Studies," "Musicology," "Philosophy," "Anthropology," "Science"
<emph rend="bold"><emph rend="indent3">                HÉRODIADE</emph></emph>             (From the French of Stéphane Mallarmé.)        HÉRODIADE TO mine own self I am a wilderness. You know it, amethyst gardens numberless Enfolded in the flaming, subtle deep, Strange gold, that through the red earth's heavy sleep Has cherished ancient brightness like a dream, Stones whence mine eyes, pure jewels, have their gleam Of icy and melodious radiance, you, Metals, which into my young tresses drew A fatal splendour and their manifold grace ! Thou, woman, born into these evil days Disastrous to the cavern sibylline, Who speakest, prophesying not of one divine, But of a mortal, if from that close sheath, My robes, rustle the wild enchanted breath In the white quiver of my nakedness, If the warm air of summer, O prophetess, (And woman's body obeys that ancient claim) Behold me in my shivering starry shame, I die!     The horror of my virginity Delights me, and I would envelope me In the terror of my tresses, that, by night, Inviolate reptile, I might feel the white And glimmering radiance of thy frozen fire, Thou that art chaste and diest of desire, White night of ice and of the cruel snow ! Eternal sister, thy lone sister, lo My dreams uplifted before thee ! now, apart 68THE SAVOY So rare a crystal is my dreaming heart I live in a monotonous land alone, And all about me lives but in mine own Image, the idolatrous mirror of my pride, Mirrowing this Hérodiade diamond-eyed. I am indeed alone, O charm and curse !        NURSE. O lady, would you die then ?        HÉRODIADE No, poor nurse. Be calm, and leave me ; prithee, pardon me, But, ere thou go, close to the casement ; see How the seraphical blue in the dim glass smiles, But I abhor the blue of the sky ! Yet, miles On miles of rocking waves ! Know'st not a land Where, in the pestilent sky, men see the hand Of Venus, and her shadow in dark leaves ? Thither I go.     Light thou the wax that grieves In the swift flame, and sheds an alien tear Over the vain gold ; wilt not say in mere Childishness ?       NURSE. Now ?      HÉRODIADE         Farewell. You lie, O flower Of these chill lips !                      I wait the unknown hour, Or, deaf to your crying and that hour supreme, Utter the lamentation of the dream Of childhood seeing fall apart in sighs The icy chaplet of its reveries.

               ARTHUR SYMONS.