225 
 
 
 
 
 
EPILOGUE TO “ PETITS POEMES EN PROSE ” 
 
MINE heart at ease, I climbed the promontory 
 Whence one may contemplate the town out-spread :   
Hospital, brothel, jail, hell, purgatory, 
 
Where each thing monstrous rears its prospered head !   
 Well know’st Thou, Satan (ease this woe of mine !) 
I went not thither futile tears to shed ;   
 
But, an old lecher with’s old concubine, 
 To madden sense on the enormous bitch 
Whose hellish charm pours youth from me like wine !   
 
Whether thou sleep in morning’s sheets (dear witch !) 
 Heavy, obscure, and chill ;  or preen thee, vain, 
In evening’s veils, with gold embroidery rich, 
 
Infamous Capital, I love thee !  Drain 
 Whose thieves and whores give me to ease life’s itch 
Pleasures inscrutable to the profane !