The Sages of old time, well worth our own, <br />Believed--and it has been disproved by none-- <br />That destinies in Heaven written are, <br />And every soul depends upon a star. <br />(Many have mocked, without remembering <br />That laughter oft is a misguiding thing, <br />This explanation of night's mystery.) <br />Now all that born beneath Saturnus be,-- <br />Red planet, to the necromancer dear,-- <br />Inherit, ancient magic-books make clear, <br />Good share of spleen, good share of wretchedness. <br />Imagination, wakeful, vigorless, <br />In them makes the resolves of reason vain. <br />The blood within them, subtle as a bane, <br />Burning as lava, scarce, flows ever fraught <br />With sad ideals that ever come to naught. <br />Such must Saturnians suffer, such must die,-- <br />If so that death destruction doth imply,-- <br />Their lives being ordered in this dismal sense <br />By logic of a malign Influence.<br /><br />Paul Verlaine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poemes-saturniens-prologue/
