Let us drink again to her witchery. It
is her breath itself distilled by the Heavenly Twins that foams
against my lips. I would give the soul out of my body to marry
her, did I say? It were like buying her for a farthing. I would
pledge the soul of the universe for a kiss.
I catch up Polyphemus under the arm-pits, and his hind legs
dangle. He continues to lick his chops and looks at me
sardonically. He is stolid over his cups--which is somewhat
disappointing. No matter; he can be shaken into enthusiasm.
"I care not," I cry, "for man or devil, Polyphemus.
_'Que je suis grand ici! mon amour de feu
Va de pair cette nuit avec celui de Dieu!'_
You may say that it's wrong, that the first line is a syllable
short, and that Triboulet said _'colere'_ instead of _amour_.
You always were a dry-as-dust, pedantic prig. But I say _amour_-
love, do you hear? I'll translate, if you like:
'Now am I mighty, and my love of fire
To-night goes even with a god's desire.
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