The Chaste Moon update is live at Black Phoenix Squared!

[wickedgoddess]

CHASTE MOON 2010

Though March marks the end of the desolation and chill of winter, it is not yet Spring, the time of rebirth, fertility and the Earth's fecundity. March's Full Moon is a Virgin's Moon, pure, youthful, unsullied and innocent. This is the Moon of the Child, and the scent is as soft and gentle as a baby's breath: milky blossoms and soft cream touch the last buds of winter, coupled with crystalline, bright traditional Lunar oils.

 

 

Pale, luminous grey shimmer ink on black tee. Artwork for Trading Post's Lunacy tee by Jennifer Williamson!

 

 

 

Also live this month at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab…

 

IDES OF MARCH 2010

 

The Ides marked an auspicious time in the Roman calendar. Depending on the month in question, the Ides fell on the thirteenth or fifteenth, and usually marked the Full Moon. As we all know, it was not an auspicious day for Julius Caesar, nor was it fortuitous for H.P. Lovecraft, who also met his maker on this infamous day. Tu quoque, Brute, fili mi! A mixture of springtime greenery and classical Roman cologne: dark musk, spikenard, bergamot, lemon rind and vervain with costus, benzoin, gray amber, cardamom, and white narcissus.

 

 

 

The Bards of Ireland return for a limited engagement…

 

++ LE: THE BARDS OF IRELAND 2010

Irish bards were members of a hereditary caste of learned poets. They were officials of the courts of their chieftains and kings, and served as historians, storytellers, and satirists. They were immersed in the rich history of their clan and country, and learned the intricacies of their craft from birth. Their words held so much power that it was believed that a glam dicing, or satirical incantation, spoken by a bard held the magic of a curse.

 

This series is celebration of great Irish poets and storytellers. Through these poems, we touch the glory, beauty, and grief that permeates the soul of Ireland.

 

THE HARP OF CNOC I'CHOSGAIR

Gofraidh Fion O Dalaigh

Harp of Cnoc I'Chosgair, you who bring sleep

to eyes long sleepless;

sweet subtle, plangent, glad, cooling grave.

Excellent instrument with smooth gentle curve,

trilling under red fingers,

musician that has charmed us,

red, lion-like of full melody.

 

You who lure the bird from the flock,

you who refresh the mind,

brown spotted one of sweet words,

ardent, wondrous, passionate.

You who heal every wounded warrior,

joy and allurement to women,

familiar guide over the dark blue water,

mystic sweet sounding music.

 

You who silence every instrument of music,

yourself a sweet plaintive instrument,

dweller among the Race of Conn,

instrument yellow-brown and firm.

The one darling of sages,

restless, smooth, sweet of tune,

crimson star above the Fairy Hills,

breast jewel of High Kings.

 

Sweet tender flowers, brown harp of Diarmaid,

shape not unloved by hosts, voice of cuckoos in May!

I have not heard music ever such as your frame makes

since the time of the Fairy People,

fair brown many coloured bough,

gentle, powerful, glorious.

 

Sound of the calm wave on the beach,

pure shadowing tree of pure music,

carousals are drunk in your company,

voice of the swan over shining streams.

Cry of the Fairy Women from the Fairy Hill of Ler,

no melody can match you,

every house is sweet stringed through your guidance,

you the pinnacle of harp music.

 

Gilded amber, tiare, golden sandalwood, vanilla, cardamom, and tagetes.

 

 

LITTLE BIRD

Traditional

Little bird! O little bird!

I wonder at what thou doest,

Thou singing merry far from me,

I in sadness all alone!

 

Little bird! O little bird!

I wonder at how thou art

Thou high on the tips of branching boughs,

I on the ground a-creeping!

 

Little bird! O little bird!

Thou art music far away,

Like the tender croon of the mother loved

In the kindly sleep of death.

 

Night air, wild jostaberry, melancholy thistle, meadowgrass, marsh marigold, and butterwort.

 

 

THE TRAVELLER

Oliver Goldsmith

Vain, very vain, my weary search to find

That bliss which only centres in the mind:

Why have I stray'd from pleasure and repose,

To seek a good each government bestows?

In every government, though terrors reign,

Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain,

How small, of all that human hearts endure,

That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!

Still to ourselves in every place consign'd,

Our own felicity we make or find:

With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,

Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.

The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel,

Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel,

To men remote from power but rarely known,

Leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own.

 

A wanderer, poised at the point where three great countries meet, ruminating on government, nationalism, religion, and personal character: boot leather, pipe tobacco, and the dust of soft resins, herbs, and soil-flecked gravel picked on long, solitary travels.

 

 

 

The next in our joint series inspired by Neil Gaiman's 15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot is also live (undead) at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post: the Priestess.

 

 

 

Black ink on dusty cobalt burnout fabric. The tees are $35, and the tarot card and perfume set is $30.

 

Artwork by the inimitable Madame Talbot!

 

Proceeds from all sales from the Tarot series, both the scent and card set at Alchemy Lab and the tee at Black Phoenix Trading Post, benefit the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund!

 

 

 

Also at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, some critters have flown into the Garden of Live Flowers:

 

++ MAD TEA PARTY: THE GARDEN OF LIVE FLOWERS

ROCKING-HORSE-FLY

` -- then you don't like all insects?' the Gnat went on, as quietly as if nothing had happened.

 

`I like them when they can talk,' Alice said. `None of them ever talk, where I come from.'

 

`What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where YOU come from?' the Gnat inquired.

 

`I don't REJOICE in insects at all,' Alice explained, `because I'm rather afraid of them -- at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names of some of them."

 

`Of course they answer to their names?' the Gnat remarked carelessly.

 

`I never knew them do it.'

 

`What's the use of their having names the Gnat said, `if they won't answer to them?'

 

`No use to THEM,' said Alice; `but it's useful to the people who name them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?'

 

`I can't say,' the Gnat replied. `Further on, in the wood down there, they've got no names -- however, go on with your list of insects: you're wasting time.'

 

`Well, there's the Horse-fly,' Alice began, counting off the names on her fingers.

 

`All right,' said the Gnat: `half way up that bush, you'll see a Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. It's made entirely of wood, and gets about by swinging itself from branch to branch.'

 

`What does it live on?' Alice asked, with great curiosity.

 

`Sap and sawdust,' said the Gnat. `Go on with the list.'

 

Alice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made up her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright and sticky; and then she went on.

 

Shellacked wood, sap, sawdust, and privet.

 

 

SNAP-DRAGON-FLY

`Look on the branch above your head,' said the Gnat, `and there you'll find a Snap-Dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.'

 

`And what does it live on?'

 

`Frumenty and mince pie,' the Gnat replied; `and it makes its nest in a Christmas box.'

 

Plum pudding, holly, and brandy-soaked raisin with frumenty, mince pie, and a hint of suet.

 

 

BREAD-AND-BUTTERFLY

`Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), `you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.'

 

`And what does IT live on?'

 

`Weak tea with cream in it.'

 

Bread, lightly buttered, with weak tea, cream, and a lump of white sugar.

 

 

 

And elsewhere, stories are being told:

 

++ MARCHEN

TOADS AND DIAMONDS

There once upon a time a widow who had two daughters. The eldest was so much like her in the face and humor that whoever looked upon the daughter saw the mother. They were both so disagreeable and so proud that there was no living with them.

 

The youngest, who was the very picture of her father for courtesy and sweetness of temper, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever seen. As people naturally love their own likeness, this mother even doted on her eldest daughter and at the same time had a horrible aversion for the youngest--she made her eat in the kitchen and work continually.

 

Among other things, this poor child was forced twice a day to draw water above a mile and a-half off the house, and bring home a pitcher full of it. One day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink.

 

"Oh! ay, with all my heart, Goody," said this pretty little girl; and rinsing immediately the pitcher, she took up some water from the clearest place of the fountain, and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all the while, that she might drink the easier.

 

The good woman, having drunk, said to her:

 

You are so very pretty, my dear, so good and so mannerly, that I cannot help giving you a gift." For this was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor country woman, to see how far the civility and good manners of this pretty girl would go. "I will give you for a gift," continued the Fairy, "that, at every word you speak, there shall come out of your mouth either a flower or a jewel."

 

When this pretty girl came home her mother scolded her for staying so long at the fountain.

 

"I beg your pardon, mamma," said the poor girl, "for not making more haste."

 

And in speaking these words there came out of her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two diamonds.

 

"What is it I see there?" said the mother, quite astonished. "I think I see pearls and diamonds come out of the girl's mouth! How happens this, child?"

 

This was the first time she had ever called her child.

 

The poor creature told her frankly all the matter, not without dropping out infinite numbers of diamonds.

 

"In good faith," cried the mother, "I must send my child thither. Come hither, Fanny; look what comes out of thy sister's mouth when she speaks. Wouldst not thou be glad, my dear, to have the same gift given thee? Thou hast nothing else to do but go and draw water out of the fountain, and when a certain poor woman asks you to let her drink, to give it to her very civilly."

 

"It would be a very fine sight indeed," said this ill- bred minx, "to see me go draw water."

 

"You shall go, hussy!" said the mother; "and this minute."

 

So away she went, but grumbling all the way, taking with her the best silver tankard in the house.

 

She was no sooner at the fountain than she saw coming out of the wood a lady most gloriously dressed, who came up to her, and asked to drink. This was, you must know, the very fairy who appeared to her sister, but now had taken the air and dress of a princess, to see how far this girl's rudeness would go.

 

"Am I come hither," said the proud, saucy one, "to serve you with water, pray? I suppose the silver tankard was brought purely for your ladyship, was it? However, you may drink out of it, if you have a fancy."

 

"You are not over and above mannerly," answered the Fairy, without putting herself in a passion. "Well, then, since you have so little breeding, and are so disobliging, I give you for a gift that at every word you speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad."

 

So soon as her mother saw her coming she cried out:

 

"Well, daughter?"

 

"Well, mother?" answered the pert hussy, throwing out of her mouth two vipers and two toads.

 

"Oh! mercy," cried the mother; "what is it I see? Oh! it is that wretch her sister who has occasioned all this; but she shall pay for it"; and immediately she ran to beat her. The poor child fled away from her, and went to hide herself in the forest, not far from thence.

 

The King's son, then on his return from hunting, met her, and seeing her so very pretty, asked her what she did there alone and why she cried.

 

"Alas! sir, my mamma has turned me out of doors."

 

The King's son, who saw five or six pearls and as many diamonds come out of her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. She thereupon told him the whole story; and so the King's son fell in love with her, and, considering himself that such a gift was worth more than any marriage portion, conducted her to the palace of the King his father, and there married her.

 

As for the sister, she made herself so much hated that her own mother turned her off; and the miserable wretch, having wandered about a good while without finding anybody to take her in, went to a corner of the wood, and there died.

 

 

ROSES, PEARLS, AND DIAMONDS Red roses, dazzling crystalline musks, and pearlescent coconut-tinged orris.

 

 

++ MARCHEN: AESOP'S FABLES

GRIEF AND HIS DUE

When Jupiter was assigning the various gods their privileges, it so happened that Grief was not present with the rest: but when all had received their share, he too entered and claimed his due. Jupiter was at a loss to know what to do, for there was nothing left for him. However, at last he decided that to him should belong the tears that are shed for the dead. Thus it is the same with Grief as it is with the other gods. The more devoutly men render to him his due, the more lavish is he of that which he has to bestow. It is not well, therefore, to mourn long for the departed; else Grief, whose sole pleasure is in such mourning, will be quick to send fresh cause for tears.

 

GRIEF

Inconsolable: lily of the valley, hyacinth, calamus, muguet, hydrangea, and elemi.

 

 

PROMETHEUS AND TRUTH

Olim Prometheus saeculi figulus noui

cura subtili Veritatem fecerat,

ut iura posset inter homines reddere.

Subito accersitus nuntio magni Iouis

commendat officinam fallaci Dolo,

in disciplinam nuper quem receperat.

Hic studio accensus, facie simulacrum pari,

una statura, simile et membris omnibus,

dum tempus habuit callida finxit manu.

Quod prope iam totum mire cum positum foret,

lutum ad faciendos illi defecit pedes.

Redit magister, quo festinanter Dolus

metu turbatus in suo sedit loco.

Mirans Prometheus tantam similitudinem

propriae uideri uoluit gloriam.

Igitur fornaci pariter duo signa intulit;

quibus percoctis atque infuso spiritu

modesto gressu sancta incessit Veritas,

at trunca species haesit in uestigio.

Tunc falsa imago atque operis furtiui labor

Mendacium appellatum est, quod negantibus

pedes habere facile et ipse adsentio.

Simulata interdum initio prosunt hominibus,

sed tempore ipsa tamen apparet ueritas.

 

Prometheus, the Titan of forethought and clever counsel, was a divine potter that was assigned the task of molding mankind out of clay. One day, he decided to dedicate his skill to sculpting the form of the spirit Veritas - Truth - so that he would be able to instill men with virtue. As he toiled, he was called away from his workshop by a sudden summons from the King of the Gods. Dolus - Trickery - had recently become one of Prometheus' apprentices, and was left in charge of the workshop in the titan's absence. Dolus used his time in the workshop to create a figure with the same size and possessing the same features as Veritas with his crafty, sly hands. When he was almost finished with his sculpture, which was truly almost identical to Prometheus' work, he ran out of clay to use for her feet. The divine potter returned, and Dolus scurried to his seat, trembling with fear that his master should discover what he had done and punish him. Prometheus was startled by the similarities between the two clay figures and decided he would take credit for both as a testament to his own skill. He put both statues in the kiln, and after they had been fired, he breathed life into them. Veritas walked with measured, steady steps, while her twin was immobile, stuck in her tracks. The imitation Veritas, a forgery and product of deception and artifice, aquired the name Mendacium - Falsehood. Falsehood has no feet: now and again something that is false can start off successfully, but with time, Truth will always prevail.

 

 

VERITAS The essence of honesty, integrity, and veracity: frankincense, white carnation, angelica, chamomile, and heliotrope.

 

 

 

Two new scents join Bewitching Brews:

 

++ BEWTICHING BREWS

THE HARLOT'S HOUSE

We caught the tread of dancing feet,

We loitered down the moonlit street,

And stopped beneath the harlot's house.

 

Inside, above the din and fray,

We heard the loud musicians play

The "Treues Liebes Herz" of Strauss.

 

Like strange mechanical grotesques,

Making fantastic arabesques,

The shadows raced across the blind.

 

We watched the ghostly dancers spin

To sound of horn and violin,

Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.

 

Like wire-pulled automatons,

Slim silhouetted skeletons

Went sidling through the slow quadrille.

 

The took each other by the hand,

And danced a stately saraband;

Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.

 

Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed

A phantom lover to her breast,

Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.

 

Sometimes a horrible marionette

Came out, and smoked its cigarette

Upon the steps like a live thing.

 

Then, turning to my love, I said,

"The dead are dancing with the dead,

The dust is whirling with the dust."

 

But she--she heard the violin,

And left my side, and entered in:

Love passed into the house of lust.

 

Then suddenly the tune went false,

The dancers wearied of the waltz,

The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.

 

And down the long and silent street,

The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,

Crept like a frightened girl.

 

The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust: angel's trumpet, violet, white sandalwood, oude, copaiba balsam, angelica, white tea, olibanum, and oakmoss.

 

 

MELIAI

Sisters to the Erinyes and the Gigantes, the ash tree nymphs were also born from the union of the blood gushing from Ouranos' castration wounds and Gaia's fertile womb. These nymphs were the mother of the Bronze Race of mankind's third age.

 

Ash manna and ambrosial honey.

 

 

And there's one new denizen in Diabolus:

 

EKHIDNA

This was the divine and haughty Ekhidna, and half of her is a Nymphe with a fair face and eyes glancing, but the other half is a monstrous ophis, terrible, enormous and squirming and voracious, there in earth's secret places. For there she has her cave on the underside of a hollow rock, far from the immortal gods, and far from all mortals. There the gods ordained her a fabulous home to live in which she keeps underground among the Arimoi, grisly Ekhidna, a Nymphe who never dies, and all her days she is ageless.

 

Mother of Monsters, the Eel of Tartarus, Queen of the Dark Forest, Serpent Womb. Consort to Typhon, the Rotting Lamprey was born from the residual scum left behind after from the Great Deluge.

 

All the corruptions of the earth: mandrake, dark myrrh, seaweed, swampy moss, black pepper, pimento, opoponax, tobacco absolute, and tarry clove.

 

 

 

Black Phoenix Trading Post is celebrating its 5th anniversary with an epic update…

 

Trading Post is thrilled to present the Return of the Suds -

 

We are proud to present our newest joint-venture: exquisite handmade soaps by Villainess, scented by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.

 

These gloriously luxuriant soaps were created with the finest skin-nurturing ingredients. They are made by hand, from scratch, by the fiercely talented master soaper Brooke Stant, and are generously scented with Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab brews. Each bar is at least 3.5oz (without any water weight), and are cut 1" thick from a 3" square block of soap. The faces of the bars are smooth and bear unique, undulating, surrealistically beautiful swirls and marbles, and the sides are textured and raw, exhibiting the complex landscape of unsculpted handmade soap.

 

As always, no animals were harmed during the creation of this soap, and all products were tested on friends and family.

 

$8.50 per bar!

 

 

EMBALMING FLUID SOAP

A light, pure scent: white musk, green tea, aloe and lemon.

The soap: absolutely smooth, sheer, silken lather.

 

PORT ROYAL SOAP

Spiced rum and ship's wood mixed with the body-warmed trace of a prostitute's perfume and a hint of salty sea air on the dry-down.

The soap: gunpowder-black clay, imported silk, and a thick crust of sea salt.

 

SHUB-NIGGURATH SOAP

A blend of ritual herbs and dark resins, shot through with three gingers and aphrodisiacal spices.

The soap: absolutely smooth, sheer, silken lather.

 

SNAKE OIL SOAP

A blend of exotic Indonesian oils sugared with vanilla.

The soap: absolutely smooth, sheer, silken lather enriched with milky kaolin and flecked with blackened vanilla bean.

 

XMVLZENCAB SOAP

The family of bee deities that governed creation in the Mayan lands. Their scent is wild honey, black laurel flower, plumeria, and South American ginger.

The soap: absolutely smooth, sheer, silken lather drenched in sticky, humectant honey.

 

 

 

To celebrate the union, we are offering a few corresponding bath oils for a limited time:

 

++ LIMITED EDITION BATH OILS

EMBALMING FLUID BATH OIL

SNAKE OIL BATH OIL

XMVLZENCAB BATH OIL

 

 

 

The chilled air of winter is harbinger to a limited scent series at Black Phoenix Trading Post: the Great Loves and Tragedies of Ancient Greece. Two doomed duets will appear every month for four months. The first -

 

++ THE GREAT LOVES AND TRAGEDIES OF ANCIENT GREECE: ECHO & NARKISSOS

ECHO

Fam'd far and near for knowing things to come,

From him th' enquiring nations sought their doom;

The fair Liriope his answers try'd,

And first th' unerring prophet justify'd.

This nymph the God Cephisus had abus'd,

With all his winding waters circumfus'd,

And on the Nereid got a lovely boy,

Whom the soft maids ev'n then beheld with joy.

 

The tender dame, sollicitous to know

Whether her child should reach old age or no,

Consults the sage Tiresias, who replies,

"If e'er he knows himself he surely dies."

Long liv'd the dubious mother in suspence,

'Till time unriddled all the prophet's sense.

 

Narcissus now his sixteenth year began,

Just turn'd of boy, and on the verge of man;

Many a friend the blooming youth caress'd,

Many a love-sick maid her flame confess'd:

Such was his pride, in vain the friend caress'd,

The love-sick maid in vain her flame confess'd.

 

Once, in the woods, as he pursu'd the chace,

The babbling Echo had descry'd his face;

She, who in others' words her silence breaks,

Nor speaks her self but when another speaks.

Echo was then a maid, of speech bereft,

Of wonted speech; for tho' her voice was left,

Juno a curse did on her tongue impose,

To sport with ev'ry sentence in the close.

Full often when the Goddess might have caught

Jove and her rivals in the very fault,

This nymph with subtle stories would delay

Her coming, 'till the lovers slip'd away.

The Goddess found out the deceit in time,

And then she cry'd, "That tongue, for this thy crime,

Which could so many subtle tales produce,

Shall be hereafter but of little use."

Hence 'tis she prattles in a fainter tone,

With mimick sounds, and accents not her own.

 

This love-sick virgin, over-joy'd to find The boy alone,

still follow'd him behind:

When glowing warmly at her near approach,

As sulphur blazes at the taper's touch,

She long'd her hidden passion to reveal,

And tell her pains, but had not words to tell:

She can't begin, but waits for the rebound,

To catch his voice, and to return the sound.

 

The nymph, when nothing could Narcissus move,

Still dash'd with blushes for her slighted love,

Liv'd in the shady covert of the woods,

In solitary caves and dark abodes;

Where pining wander'd the rejected fair,

'Till harrass'd out, and worn away with care,

The sounding skeleton, of blood bereft,

Besides her bones and voice had nothing left.

Her bones are petrify'd, her voice is found

In vaults, where still it doubles ev'ry sound.

 

A scent shrouded behind a veil: vanilla orchid, amyris, white sandalwood, grey amber, and tuberose.

 

 

NARKISSOS

Thus did the nymphs in vain caress the boy,

He still was lovely, but he still was coy;

When one fair virgin of the slighted train

Thus pray'd the Gods, provok'd by his disdain,

"Oh may he love like me, and love like me in vain!"

Rhamnusia pity'd the neglected fair,

And with just vengeance answer'd to her pray'r.

There stands a fountain in a darksom wood,

Nor stain'd with falling leaves nor rising mud;

Untroubled by the breath of winds it rests,

Unsully'd by the touch of men or beasts;

High bow'rs of shady trees above it grow,

And rising grass and chearful greens below.

Pleas'd with the form and coolness of the place,

And over-heated by the morning chace,

Narcissus on the grassie verdure lyes:

But whilst within the chrystal fount he tries

To quench his heat, he feels new heats arise.

For as his own bright image he survey'd,

He fell in love with the fantastick shade;

And o'er the fair resemblance hung unmov'd,

Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he lov'd.

The well-turn'd neck and shoulders he descries,

The spacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes;

The hands that Bacchus might not scorn to show,

And hair that round Apollo's head might flow;

With all the purple youthfulness of face,

That gently blushes in the wat'ry glass.

By his own flames consum'd the lover lyes,

And gives himself the wound by which he dies.

To the cold water oft he joins his lips,

Oft catching at the beauteous shade he dips

His arms, as often from himself he slips.

 

Nor knows he who it is his arms pursue

With eager clasps, but loves he knows not who.

 

What could, fond youth, this helpless passion move?

What kindled in thee this unpity'd love?

Thy own warm blush within the water glows,

With thee the colour'd shadow comes and goes,

Its empty being on thy self relies;

Step thou aside, and the frail charmer dies.

 

Still o'er the fountain's wat'ry gleam he stood,

Mindless of sleep, and negligent of food;

Still view'd his face, and languish'd as he view'd.

At length he rais'd his head, and thus began

To vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain.

"You trees," says he, "and thou surrounding grove,

Who oft have been the kindly scenes of love,

Tell me, if e'er within your shades did lye

A youth so tortur'd, so perplex'd as I?

I, who before me see the charming fair,

Whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there:

In such a maze of love my thoughts are lost:

And yet no bulwark'd town, nor distant coast,

Preserves the beauteous youth from being seen,

No mountains rise, nor oceans flow between.

A shallow water hinders my embrace;

And yet the lovely mimick wears a face

That kindly smiles, and when I bend to join

My lips to his, he fondly bends to mine.

Hear, gentle youth, and pity my complaint,

Come from thy well, thou fair inhabitant.

My charms an easy conquest have obtain'd

O'er other hearts, by thee alone disdain'd.

But why should I despair? I'm sure he burns

With equal flames, and languishes by turns.

When-e'er I stoop, he offers at a kiss,

And when my arms I stretch, he stretches his.

His eye with pleasure on my face he keeps,

He smiles my smiles, and when I weep he weeps.

When e'er I speak, his moving lips appear

To utter something, which I cannot hear.

 

"Ah wretched me! I now begin too late

To find out all the long-perplex'd deceit;

It is my self I love, my self I see;

The gay delusion is a part of me.

I kindle up the fires by which I burn,

And my own beauties from the well return.

Whom should I court? how utter my complaint?

Enjoyment but produces my restraint,

And too much plenty makes me die for want.

How gladly would I from my self remove!

And at a distance set the thing I love.

My breast is warm'd with such unusual fire,

I wish him absent whom I most desire.

And now I faint with grief; my fate draws nigh;

In all the pride of blooming youth I die.

Death will the sorrows of my heart relieve.

Oh might the visionary youth survive,

I should with joy my latest breath resign!

But oh! I see his fate involv'd in mine."

 

This said, the weeping youth again return'd

To the clear fountain, where again he burn'd;

His tears defac'd the surface of the well,

With circle after circle, as they fell:

And now the lovely face but half appears,

O'er-run with wrinkles, and deform'd with tears.

"Ah whither," cries Narcissus, "dost thou fly?

Let me still feed the flame by which I die;

Let me still see, tho' I'm no further blest."

Then rends his garment off, and beats his breast:

His naked bosom redden'd with the blow,

In such a blush as purple clusters show,

Ere yet the sun's autumnal heats refine

Their sprightly juice, and mellow it to wine.

The glowing beauties of his breast he spies,

And with a new redoubled passion dies.

As wax dissolves, as ice begins to run,

And trickle into drops before the sun;

So melts the youth, and languishes away,

His beauty withers, and his limbs decay;

And none of those attractive charms remain,

To which the slighted Echo su'd in vain.

 

She saw him in his present misery,

Whom, spight of all her wrongs, she griev'd to see.

She answer'd sadly to the lover's moan,

Sigh'd back his sighs, and groan'd to ev'ry groan:

"Ah youth! belov'd in vain," Narcissus cries;

"Ah youth! belov'd in vain," the nymph replies.

"Farewel," says he; the parting sound scarce fell

>From his faint lips, but she reply'd, "farewel."

Then on th' wholsome earth he gasping lyes,

'Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes.

To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires,

And in the Stygian waves it self admires.

 

For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn,

Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn;

And now the sister-nymphs prepare his urn:

When, looking for his corps, they only found

A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crown'd.

 

Gently blushing vanilla, haughty opoponax, duosmon, oude, and narcissus.

 

 

++ THE GREAT LOVES AND TRAGEDIES OF ANCIENT GREECE: + CLYTIE AND HELIOS

HELIOS

The Sun, the source of light, by beauty's pow'r

Once am'rous grew; then hear the Sun's amour.

Venus, and Mars, with his far-piercing eyes

This God first spy'd; this God first all things spies.

Stung at the sight, and swift on mischief bent,

To haughty Juno's shapeless son he went:

The Goddess, and her God gallant betray'd,

And told the cuckold, where their pranks were play'd.

Poor Vulcan soon desir'd to hear no more,

He drop'd his hammer, and he shook all o'er:

Then courage takes, and full of vengeful ire

He heaves the bellows, and blows fierce the fire:

>From liquid brass, tho' sure, yet subtile snares

He forms, and next a wond'rous net prepares,

Drawn with such curious art, so nicely sly,

Unseen the mashes cheat the searching eye.

Not half so thin their webs the spiders weave,

Which the most wary, buzzing prey deceive.

These chains, obedient to the touch, he spread

In secret foldings o'er the conscious bed:

The conscious bed again was quickly prest

By the fond pair, in lawless raptures blest.

 

Mars wonder'd at his Cytherea's charms,

More fast than ever lock'd within her arms.

While Vulcan th' iv'ry doors unbarr'd with care,

Then call'd the Gods to view the sportive pair:

The Gods throng'd in, and saw in open day,

Where Mars, and beauty's queen, all naked, lay.

O! shameful sight, if shameful that we name,

Which Gods with envy view'd, and could not blame;

But, for the pleasure, wish'd to bear the shame.

Each Deity, with laughter tir'd, departs,

Yet all still laugh'd at Vulcan in their hearts.

 

Thro' Heav'n the news of this surprizal run,

But Venus did not thus forget the Sun.

He, who stol'n transports idly had betray'd,

By a betrayer was in kind repay'd.

What now avails, great God, thy piercing blaze,

That youth, and beauty, and those golden rays?

Thou, who can'st warm this universe alone,

Feel'st now a warmth more pow'rful than thy own:

And those bright eyes, which all things should survey,

Know not from fair Leucothoe to stray.

The lamp of light, for human good design'd,

Is to one virgin miserly confin'd.

Sometimes too early rise thy eastern beams,

Sometimes too late they set in western streams:

'Tis then her beauty thy swift course delays,

And gives to winter skies long summer days.

Now in thy face thy love-sick mind appears,

And spreads thro' impious nations empty fears:

For when thy beamless head is wrapt in night,

Poor mortals tremble in despair of light.

'Tis not the moon, that o'er thee casts a veil

'Tis love alone, which makes thy looks so pale.

Leucothoe is grown thy only care,

Not Phaeton's fair mother now is fair.

The youthful Rhodos moves no tender thought,

And beauteous Porsa is at last forgot.

Fond Clytie, scorn'd, yet lov'd, and sought thy bed,

Ev'n then thy heart for other virgins bled.

Leucothoe has all thy soul possest,

And chas'd each rival passion from thy breast.

To this bright nymph Eurynome gave birth

In the blest confines of the spicy Earth.

Excelling others, she herself beheld

By her own blooming daughter far excell'd.

The sire was Orchamus, whose vast command,

The sev'nth from Belus, rul'd the Persian Land.

 

Deep in cool vales, beneath th' Hesperian sky,

For the Sun's fiery steeds the pastures lye.

Ambrosia there they eat, and thence they gain

New vigour, and their daily toils sustain.

While thus on heav'nly food the coursers fed,

And night, around, her gloomy empire spread,

The God assum'd the mother's shape and air,

And pass'd, unheeded, to his darling fair.

Close by a lamp, with maids encompass'd round,

The royal spinster, full employ'd, he found:

Then cry'd, A-while from work, my daughter, rest;

And, like a mother, scarce her lips he prest.

Servants retire!- nor secrets dare to hear,

Intrusted only to a daughter's ear.

They swift obey'd: not one, suspicious, thought

The secret, which their mistress would be taught.

Then he: since now no witnesses are near,

Behold! the God, who guides the various year!

The world's vast eye, of light the source serene,

Who all things sees, by whom are all things seen.

Believe me, nymph! (for I the truth have show'd)

Thy charms have pow'r to charm so great a God.

Confus'd, she heard him his soft passion tell,

And on the floor, untwirl'd, the spindle fell:

Still from the sweet confusion some new grace

Blush'd out by stealth, and languish'd in her face.

The lover, now inflam'd, himself put on,

And out at once the God, all-radiant, shone.

The virgin startled at his alter'd form,

Too weak to bear a God's impetuous storm:

No more against the dazling youth she strove,

But silent yielded, and indulg'd his love.

 

The searing brightness of the sun: Gum Arabic, frankincense, liquid copal, cistus, neroli, golden cedarwood, and saffron.

 

 

CLYTIE

This Clytie knew, and knew she was undone,

Whose soul was fix'd, and doated on the Sun.

She rag'd to think on her neglected charms,

And Phoebus, panting in another's arms.

With envious madness fir'd, she flies in haste,

And tells the king, his daughter was unchaste.

The king, incens'd to hear his honour stain'd,

No more the father nor the man retain'd.

In vain she stretch'd her arms, and turn'd her eyes

To her lov'd God, th' enlightner of the skies.

In vain she own'd it was a crime, yet still

It was a crime not acted by her will.

The brutal sire stood deaf to ev'ry pray'r,

And deep in Earth entomb'd alive the fair.

What Phoebus could do, was by Phoebus done:

Full on her grave with pointed beams he shone:

To pointed beams the gaping Earth gave way;

Had the nymph eyes, her eyes had seen the day,

But lifeless now, yet lovely still, she lay.

Not more the God wept, when the world was fir'd,

And in the wreck his blooming boy expir'd.

The vital flame he strives to light again,

And warm the frozen blood in ev'ry vein:

But since resistless Fates deny'd that pow'r,

On the cold nymph he rain'd a nectar show'r.

Ah! undeserving thus (he said) to die,

Yet still in odours thou shalt reach the sky.

The body soon dissolv'd, and all around

Perfum'd with heav'nly fragrancies the ground,

A sacrifice for Gods up-rose from thence,

A sweet, delightful tree of frankincense.

 

Tho' guilty Clytie thus the sun betray'd,

By too much passion she was guilty made.

Excess of love begot excess of grief,

Grief fondly bad her hence to hope relief.

But angry Phoebus hears, unmov'd, her sighs,

And scornful from her loath'd embraces flies.

All day, all night, in trackless wilds, alone

She pin'd, and taught the list'ning rocks her moan.

On the bare earth she lies, her bosom bare,

Loose her attire, dishevel'd is her hair.

Nine times the morn unbarr'd the gates of light,

As oft were spread th' alternate shades of night,

So long no sustenance the mourner knew,

Unless she drunk her tears, or suck'd the dew.

She turn'd about, but rose not from the ground,

Turn'd to the Sun, still as he roul'd his round:

On his bright face hung her desiring eyes,

'Till fix'd to Earth, she strove in vain to rise.

Her looks their paleness in a flow'r retain'd,

But here, and there, some purple streaks they gain'd.

Still the lov'd object the fond leafs pursue,

Still move their root, the moving Sun to view,

And in the Heliotrope the nymph is true.

 

Excess of love begetting excess of grief: heliotrope, frankincense, muguet, osmanthus, and neroli.

 

 

$40 per set.

 

On a lighter note --

 

The District atmosphere sprays are live!

 

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post are proud to present a scent series representing the people, places, and culture of New Orleans' Storyville, featuring artwork by the inimitable Molly Crabapple. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is pandering the perfumes, and Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is offering District-themed atmosphere sprays!

 

Lavish bordellos and shady cribs, dazzling jazz, and swinging saloons: bounded by Basin, Iberville, Robertson, and St Louis, Storyville, known to locals as the District, was New Orleans' legal red light district from 1897 to 1917.

 

This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture. Proceeds from every bottle go to Habitat for Humanity: New Orleans. Habitat for Humanity builds houses in partnership with sponsors, volunteers, communities, and homeowner families, whereby families are empowered to transform their own lives, and aids in eliminating poverty housing in the New Orleans area while serving as a catalyst to make decent shelter a matter of conscience and action.

 

$27.50 per 4oz bottle.

 

++ THE DISTRICT

GERTRUDE DIX'S

White magnolias, vanilla orchid, and a cascade of champagne.

 

MAHOGANY HALL

Polished mahogany and teakwood and swirls of cigar smoke, with deep patchouli, tonka, cardamom, Spanish moss, and bourbon vanilla.

 

PETE LALA'S CAFE

Dusty leather, dry cedar and fir, fresh tobacco smoke, and the scent of tucked-away gris gris bags for luck in love, potency, and virility.

 

 

 

New general catalogue bath oils are also live! -

 

Recline in pleasurable, tranquil languor, or bathe with intent to stimulate your senses or replenish your joy while utilizing one of our therapeutic oils.

 

Soak in your sins, or wash away all traces of your vices. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab offers you the best of both worlds, the heavenly and the diabolical, in your bathing experience.

 

Whatever your predilection may be, our blend of softening and replenishing oils, with rosehip, shea, evening primrose, fractionated coconut, and vitamin E, will ensure that you experience the utmost in sublime (or fiendish!) pleasure.

 

Superbly moisturizing without being greasy, lushly scented without being heavy-handed.

 

Paraben & formaldehyde free. No sodium lauryl or sodium laureth sulfate.

 

Labels printed on an Earth-friendly corn biopolymer.

 

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab does not test on animals. All of our products are tested on friends and family.

 

++ VICES AND VIRTUES HUMANITAS

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. - Aesop

Carnation, black cherry, wild strawberry, helichrysum, and frankincense.

 

IRA

If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow. - Chinese proverb

Blood orange, patchouli, and vetiver.

 

 

++ THERAPEUTIC BATH OILS

HEDONSIM

He who allows his day to pass by without practicing generosity and enjoying life's pleasures is like a blacksmith's bellows: he breathes but does not live. - Proverb

Awaken all of your senses with a bath that reawakens the passion of the soul.

 

INTENSITY When the sun is shining I can do anything; no mountain is too high, no trouble too difficult to overcome. - Wilma Rudolph

For concentration and clarity of thought. This bath helps you banish distractions, and gives you a renewed strength of purpose.

 

GAUDIUM

True joy is a serious thing - Seneca

Enflame your delight in everyday things, and fill yourself with enthusiasm for life's little joys.

 

 

 

New shiny things are also at Black Phoenix Trading Post! --

 

Graceful handmade Black Phoenix-inspired pendants created by Alicia Dabney.

 

These pendants are exclusive to the Trading Post, and were created for Black Phoenix. They cannot be found anywhere else in all of Heaven and Earth.

 

Each pendant is $39.00US, and comes in a Black Phoenix Trading Post velvet pouch.

 

 

Carnaval Diabolique/Triple Dagger:

Pendant is a 1" square frame of antique copper with clear glass to cover the artwork, and a hematite drop with a copper daisy embellishment. It is strung on a 1.5mm ball chain that measures 18" and closes with a lobster clasp.

 

 

Bat-Woman

Pendant is a 40x30 clear acrylic cabochon mounted onto the artwork, with in a two-tone antiqued silver bead ball rim setting. It is strung onto a 1.5mm ball chain that measures 18" and closes with a lobster clasp.

 

 

Ligeia

Pendant is a 1-7/8" rectangular diamond glass tile over the artwork, and is sealed with a dark backing and diamond glaze. A 1.5mm ball chain that measures 18" and closes with a lobster clasp has been strung onto a silver plated aanraku bail.

 

The current run for each style of pendant is twenty-five pieces. Since each piece is handmade the pendants will come down temporarily as they sell out in order for us to take the time and care necessary to create more.

 

 

 

And last, but absolutely not least, Black Phoenix Trading Post is introducing its new kids' line: the Black Phoenix Imp Brigade! Clothing for the wee ones!

 

Mad Hatter

 

Poe

 

Rocking-Horse-Fly

 

White Rabbit