The Machiavellian Gaston

From my novel "Sempiternus", is this poem dedicated to the character of Gaston, a French nobleman of the 18th century.

This is the eerie tale of my life as a vampire,
And how I then became that dreadful beast,
Who has since daunt'd those Plutonian nights
Of the innumerable plebeians of lustful souls. 

I was born in the old Loire Valley of France,
In that memorable and restless year of 1788,
Before the beginning of the French Revolution,
Whence, I was born into the nobility of Europe.

The handsome Duke of Orléans I was anoint'd,
From a proud lineage of the French aristocracy;
But a horrid night in Paris chang'd my life fore'er,
And I was haunt'd by the need for mortal blood. 

Upon a misty e'ening as I walk'd from a theatre,
I saw a stranger by my carriage as I star'd at him,
And quickly, bats were flying, as the wheels spun,
When I had felt a strong thrust strike with the wind.

I fell onto the ground, and I felt his sharp fangs,
Upon my bare neck as I had lost consciousness,
When I awoke, I was no longer this mortal being;
For I was now, a Nosferatu, a slave of the night.

I have seen those duplicitous kings and tyrants,
From land to land, city to city, country to country.
All have perish'd into the ripples of time and lore.
Ne'ertheless, I have surviv'd the centuries of man.

I am the sworn foe of the monster who creat'd me,
And I quench my thirst for blood as the nobles do,
With e'ery drop of blood of the condemn'd mortals,
Whose blood I drink in goblets of nights of pleasure. 

Sempiternus, thou shalt not rest for one moment, 
Till thou hast felt my brash wrath and vengeance.
I took Hadria from thee, and now thou shalt mourn,
The days of gloom and those nights of loneliness.

Beware, my thirst for blood is wick'd and insatiable,
As I shall torment the quotidian world of the mortals,
When I, shall be beholden only to countless vagaries
Of women, and of the madness, I shall inflict willingly.

I am the Machiavellian Gaston, Duke of Orléans,
Patrician and a connoisseur of the hall of iniquity,
And my august abode is the underworld of Europe,
Where I thrive in a grand throne of the sybarites.