Wednesday, October 2, 2013

The Art Of Seduction - Part 16 - The Most Dangerous Love Of All

La Belle Dame Sans Merci (The Beautiful Lady Without Pity/Mercy) by John Keats

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
‘I love thee true’.

She took me to her Elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

It's the most dangerous love of all. The correct terminology is La Femme Fatale and L'Homme Fatale, the fatal woman and man. They may be breathtakingly beautiful. They may be plain. Believe it or not, most are not great beauties. There's just something about them that with one look the whole world falls away, with one touch or caress insanity ensues. If they dared kiss you it would surely be the last your heart should beat.

You know them. They have been written about since the beginning of civilization. They are the witches, the vampires, the fairy lovers, the incubi and succubi,  the demonic lovers that entice. Call her Lilith, call her Circe, call her Morgan le Fay, call her Salome. All have power over men.

The male equivalent is the L'Homme Fatale, the fatale man. In Ireland there is the legend of the Glanconer, Gaelic for "love talker". He is a seductive fairy. He meets his victims on the outskirts of town, usually in the forest. He  appears as a dark-haired man with comely looks but possessing the most absurdly beautiful, preternatural eyes, often an intense shade of green or a dangerous pitch black. His powers of seduction lay in his eyes and of course his honey words. Woe to the woman  unfortunate enough to be caught in his glance! He will seduce her and bed her and then he will vanish into the otherworld form which he came. His victim, having thus experienced the carnal joys of sex with a supernatural being can never be satisfied with mortal men. His cast-offs will either go insane, kill themselves or pine away and die. The fatal man for sure.

"This Love Will Be The Death Of Me But I Know I'll Die Happily" - Come & Get It by Selena Gomez

"Behind Every Successful Man Is A Woman. Behind Every Successful Man's Downfall Is Also A Woman." -Me

They walk amongst us, spreading pleasure and madness, killing their victims with whispered words and glances, bringing their victims to physical arousal far from the bedroom. They have the power to destroy entire lives with their beautiful and deadly seduction.

Stay away from us! Avoid us at all cost. We can't help what we do anymore than the lion can help stalking the antelope. You are prey to us. We feed off  your love, the energy of your desire. We are vampires and are skilled in the art of witchcraft. We will destroy you with pleasure. The ability to invoke pleasure and pain are the twin gifts we possess. Flee from us. Quick, run away! Guard your hearts from us. Shield them as something precious.

Who am I kidding? Despite how many warnings we give we never lack the constant supply of victims. Deep down inside we fulfill a need.  So go right ahead and fall for our snares. When you are caught up in the emotional and sensual roller coaster of pleasure and sensation, when you are thoroughly addicted to our teases and when you are lost in your yearning,  just remember you were warned.