Clouds Without Water

CLOUDS WITHOUT WATER
by Aleister Crowley

Clouds they are without water, carried about of winds;trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by theroots; raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wanderingstars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever. Jude 12,13.

Clouds without Water - Edited from a Private M.S. by theRev. C. VEREY
(ALEISTER CROWLEY) LONDON PRIVATELY PRINTED

For circulation among ministers of religion.

1909

CONTENTS

Preface i
The Manuscript ix Dieu libre et libertin xi
A Quean of the Quality
A Terzain
I. -- The Augur
II. -- The Alchemist
III. -- The Hermit
IV. -- The Thaumaturge
V. -- The Black Mass
VI. -- The Adept
VII. -- The Vampire
VIII. -- The Initiation
Notes

PREFACE

BY THE REVD. C. VEREY

" Receiving in themselves that recompense of their errorwhich was meet. " So wrote the great apostle nearly two thousand yearsago; and surely in these latter days, when Satan seems visibly loosed uponearth, the words have a special and dreadful significance even for us who-- thanks be to God for His unspeakable
mercy ! -- are washed in the blood of the Lamb and freedfrom the chains of death -- and of hell. Surely this terrible history isa true Sign of the Times. We walk in the last days, and all the (v) abominationsspoken of by the apostle are freely practised in our midst. Nay ! theyare even the boast and the defence of that spectre of evil, Socialism.The awful drama which the unhappy wretch who penned these horrible utteranceshas to unfold is alas ! too common. Its study may be useful to us as showingthe logical outcome of Atheism and Free Love. For the former, death; forthe latter, the death-in-life of a frightful, loathsome, shameful disease."Receiving in themselves that recompense of their error which was meet".It may seem almost
incredible to many of us, perhaps safely establishedin our comfortable cures, among a simple and Godfearing people, that anyman should have been found to pen the disgusting blasphemies, the revoltingobscenities, which defile these pages. Nor can it be denied that a certainpower of expression, even at times a certain
felicity of (vi) phrasing -- always, indeed, a profounddramatic feeling -- is to be found in these poems. Alas ! that we shouldbe compelled to write the words ! That an art essentially spiritual, anart dignified by the great names of Gascoigne Mackie, Christina Rossetti,Alfred Tennyson, George Herbert, should here be prostituted
to such " ignoble use". Truly the corruption of the bestis the lowest -- corruptio optimi pessima. Nor can one gleam of Hope, evenin the infinite mercy of our loving Father, tinge with gold the leprousgloom of our outlook. These clouds without water have no silver lining.The unhappy man need not have feared that
the poor servants of God would claim him as repentant,though surely we would all have shed the last drop of our blood to bringhim to the grace of God. Alas ! it was not to be. The devilish precautionsof this human fiend excluded all such possibilities. He died as he hadlived, no doubt. Alas! no doubt. (vii) Where is now that spotted soul ?There is but one appalling answer to the question. In the "place preparedfor the devil and his angels "; for " he that believeth not is condemnedalready ". Not even in that modern evasion, the plea of insanity, can wefind any hope. Nothing is clearer than that these wretched victims of Satanwere in full
possession of their faculties to the last moment. Surelythe maniacal violence of their unhallowed lust and hate is no ground forpity but for reprobation. When our blessed Lord was on earth He made noexcuses for those who were possessed of devils. He took this simply asa fact -- and He healed them. It is only the
shocking atheism and materialism of modern science that,in an insane endeavour to whittle away the miracles of our blessed Saviour,has sought to include "possession" in the category of disease. (viii) OurLord had no doubts as to the reality of demoniacal possession; why shouldwe, His humble servants, truckle to the
Christless cant of an atheistical profession? The factsof this shocking case are familiar enough in the drawing-rooms of the WestEnd. Both the characters in the story were persons of considerable educationand position. On this account, and because a statement of the truth (howeverguarded) would have compromised persons of high rank, and was in any casetoo disgusting to publish in the press, the tragedy has not -- one is gladto say in these days of yellow prurience -- become matter for public comment.But the wife of the man, driven to drink and prostitution by the inhumancruelty of his mistress -- this modern worse than
Lucrezia Borgia or Mdme de Brinvilliers -- and the fianceof the girl betrayed and ruined by her machinations, still haunt the purlieusof the (ix) Strand, the one an unfortunate of the lowest order, the othera loafer and parasite upon the ghouls that traffic in human flesh and shame.Thus we see evil reproducing itself, spreading like an incurable cancerthroughout society from one germ of infidelity and unhallowed
lust. I may perhaps be blamed for publishing, even inthis limited measure, such filthy and blasphemous orgies of human speech(save the mark) but I am firmly resolved (and I believe that I have theblessing of God on my work) to awake my fellow-workers in the great vineyardto the facts of modern existence. Unblushing, the old Serpent rears itscrest to the sky; unashamed, the Beast and the Scarlet Woman chant theblasphemous litanies of their fornication. Surely the cup of their abominationsis nigh full ! Surely we who await the Advent of our blessed Lord are emboldenedto trust that this frenzy (x) of wickedness is a sure sign of the last
days; that He will shortly come -- whose fan is in Hishand, wherewith He shall thoroughly purge His floor -- and take us Hissaints -- however failing and humble we may be -- to be with Him in Hisglory for ever and ever, while those who have rejected Him burn in eternaltorment, with wailing and gnashing of teeth, in that
Lake of Fire and Brimstone from which -- thank God !He in His infinite mercy hath delivered us. But until that happy day weare bound to work on silently and strenuously in His service. May the perusalof these atrocious words enlighten us as to the very present influenceof Satan in this world -- naked and unashamed.
May it show us the full horror of the Enemy with whomwe are bound to fight; may it reveal his dispositions, so that under ourgreat Captain we may again and again win the Victory. It is my prayerfulhope that He who turn (xi) evil to good may indeed use to His glory eventhis terrible and wicked book. It has cost me
much to read it; to meditate on it has been a terribleshame and trial; to issue it, much against my own poor human judgment,in obedience to His will, has been a still harder task; were it permittedme to ask a recompense, I would ask none but that of His divine blessingupon my fellow-labourers in His great field.

C. V.

The Manuscript
We dedicate this record of our
loves
to
the memory of

MARGUERITE PORRETE

Dieu libre et libertin, sacrifice et hommage; De ma virginiterecevez les louanges! Votre empire triomphe sur mon pucelage, Paradis dela boue, empire de la fange! Dieu libre et libertin, sacrifice et hommage.

Chez vous les crimes infames ne sont que des blagues;Chez vous, mon Dieu, les dieux ne sont que des idees. Frappez votre esclave!Ah! le sang qui coule en vagues La comblera de joie, eventree et pamee.Chez vous les crimes infames ne sont que des blagues.

III

Satyre se moquant des femmes legitimes, La mort est uneblague, et l'amour trop comique. Vous etes un dieu! pour vous les seuleschoses intimes, Dieu qui m'a baise tant! sont les choses cosmiques. Satyrese moquant des femmes legitimes!

Dieu qui m'a baise tant! Baisez-moi donc encore! Vousm'avez rendu mas chere virginite. C'est pourquoi follement sous vous, ah!je me tords Eros inconnu, masque illisible et dore! Dieu qui m'a baisetant! Baisez-moi donc encore!

Vous qui vous dressez sur l'abime de l'enfer, Vous dontles plumes gravissent le haut des cieux, A moi la bouche d'or, a moi lev.. de fer! A l'ame, au corps! je suis la deesse des dieux -- Et je medresse sur l'abime de l'enfer.

Quean of the Quality being the Quatorzains of a Quietist

A TERZAIN

King of myself, I labour to espouse An equal soul. Alas! how frail I find The golden light within the gilded house. Helpless andpassionate, and weak of mind! Lechers and lepers! -- as all ivy cling,Emasculate the healthy bole they haunt. Eternity is pregnant; I shall singNow -- by my power -- a spirit grave and gaunt
Brilliant and selfish, hard and hot, to flaunt Rearedlike a flame across the lampless west, Until by love or laughter we enchaunt,Compel ye to Kithairon's thorny crest -- Evoe ! Iacche ! consummatum est.

The Augur

Look! Look! upon the tripod through the smoke Of slainthings kindled, and fine frankincense. Look -- deep beyond the phantomsthese evoke Are sightless halls where spirit stifles sense. There do Iopen the old book of Fate Wherein They pictured my delight and me Flushedwith the dawn of rapture laureate And leaping
with the laughter of ecstacy. Mine eyes grow aged withthat hieroglyph Of doom that I have sought : the fatal end. That whichis written is written, even if Great Zeus himself -- great Zeus ! -- wereto befriend. Even in the spring of the first floral kiss : "No happy endthe gods have given for this ".

Save death alone ! I see no happy end, No happy end forthis divine beginning. Child ! let us front a fate too ill to mend, Takejoy in suffering for the sake of sinning. Ay ! from your lips I pluck thepurple seed Of that pomegranate sleek Persephone Tasted in hell ; the irrevocabledeed I do, and it is done. Naught else could be For us, the chosen of sosevere a god To act so high a tragedy, the elect To suffer so, and so rejoice,the rod And scourge of our own shame, the gilt and decked Oxen that goto our own sacrifice At our own consecrated shrine of vice.

III

Over the desert ocean of distress We reach pale eagerhands that quiver and bleed With life of these our hearts that surge andstress In agony of the meditated deed. For in the little coppice by thegate Wherein I drew you shy and sly, and kissed Your lips, your hushed"I love you" smooth and straight Sweeping to wrap us in the glitteringmist Of hell that holds us -- even there I heard The lacerating laugh offate ring out, The dog-faced god pronounce the mantic word, And saw theavengers gather round about Our love. The Moirae neither break nor bend;The Erinyes hunt us to -- no happy end.

Our love is like a glittering sabre bloodied With livesof men ; upsoared the sudden sun ; The choral heaven woke ; the aethyrflooded All space with joy that you and I were one. But in the dark andsplendid dens of death Arose an echo of that jewelled song : There swepta savour of polluted breath From the lost souls,
the unsubstantial throng That tasted once a shadow ofour glory And turn them in the evil house to adore The godhead of our sin,the tragic story We have set ourselves to write, the sombre score Our daggerscarve with poesy sublime Upon the roof tree of despair and crime !

As we read Love and Death in either's eyes, We see thecool mild splendour of the dawn Damned by some tragic throw of murderousdice To slash like lightning over lea and lawn Jagged and horrible acrossthe curtain Of heaven, writing ruin, ruin -- we see Our certain joy marredwith a doubly certain Soul-shattering anguish. -- Bah! To you and me Suchloathing, such despair are little things. We are afloat on the flood-tideof lust -- A lust more spiritual than life, that stings Till death andhell dissolve i' the aftergust. So ? But the Gods avert their faces, bendTheir holy brows, and see -- no happy end.

Thus shall men write upon our cenotaphs : " Traitor andlecher ! murderous and whore ! " The rat-faced god that lurks in heavenlaughs; There is rejoicing on the immortal shore. The angels deem us hurledform the above, Burnt out of bliss, blasted from sense and thought, Barredfrom the beauties of celestial love And
branded with the annihilating Naught. O ! pallid triumph! empty victory ! When we sit smiling on the infernal thrones Starred withour utmost gems of infamy, Builded with tears, and cushioned with the groansOf these the victims of our joys immense -- Child ! I aspire to that bademinence !

VII

Hell hath no queen ! But, o thou red mouth curving Inkisses that bring blood, shall I be alone? What of the accomplice of thesedeeds unswerving? Will not your dead hot kisses match mine own? As hereyour ardours brand me bone and marrow Biting like fire and poison in myveins, Shall you not there still ply your nameless harrow. Mingle a cupfrom those our common pains To intoxicate us with an extreme pleasure Keenerthan life's, more dolorous than death's Till these infernal blisses passthe measure Of heaven's imagined by the tremulous breaths Or silly saintsand silly sinners, swaying From scraps of blasphemy to scraps of praying?

VIII

You love me ? trite and idle word to darken (With allits glow) the splendour of our sun ! No soul of heaven or hell may hearkenThe unbearable device that we have done. Nor may Justine nor Borgia understandNor Messalina nor Maria guess The infernal chorus swelling darkly grandThat echoed us our everlasting ' Yes ! ' Nor shall the Gods perceive todamn or praise The deed that shakes their essence into dust, Disrupts theirdreams, divides their dreary days. Supreme, abominable, rides our lustArmed in the panoply of brazen youth And strength, since, if we are Hell's,Hell's worm is Truth.

We are still young enough to take delight In wickednessfor wickedness' sole sake. Eve did not fall because she knew aright Thefruit an apple, but the snake a snake. Nor shall we sink among the foolishthrong That seek an end, but rise among the few Who do the strong thingbecause they are strong And care not why they
do, so that they do. Therefore we wear our dread iniquityEven as an aureole therefore we attain Measureless heights of namelessecstasy, Measureless depths of unimagined pain Mingled in one initiatingkiss That those dissolve in the athanor of this.

We tread on earth in our divine disdain And crush itsblood out into purple wine, Staining our feet with hot and amorous stain,The foam involving all the sensual shrine Of love whose godhead dwellsupon your mouth Wherein the kisses clustering overflow With brimming ardourof the new sin's growth Till round us all
the poisonous blossoms blow, And all the cruel thingsand hideous forms Of night awake and revel in our revel, While in us ragethe devastating storms Whose dam is Luxury and their sire the devil...It is well seen, however things intend, The Gods have given for this --no happy end.

Crown me with poppy and hibiscus ! crown These brows withnightshade, monkshood and vervain ! Let us anoint us with the unguentsbrown That waft our wizard bodies to the plain Where in the circle of unholystones The unconsecrated Sabbath is at height ; Where the grim goat rattlinghis skulls and bones Makes
music that dissolves the dusk of night Into a ruddy fervourfrom the abyss Such as I see (when cunning can surprise Our Argus foe andgive us leave to kiss) Within your deep, your damned, your darling eyes.Ay ! to the Sabbath where the crowned worm Exults, with twisted yard andslime-cold sperm.

XII

There gods descend ; there devils rise. We dance, Danceto the madness of the waning moon, Write centuries of murder in a glance,Chiliads of rape in one unearthly tune. There is the sacrament of sin unveiledAnd there the abortion of Demeter eaten, The potion of black Dione distilled,The measure of Pan by
whirling women beaten. These are but symbols, and oursouls the truth ; These sacraments, and we the gods of them ; The sabbathincense curls to us to soothe Our spleen, engarlands us, a diadem For thatunutterable deed that hurled Us, flaming thunderbolts ! against the world.

XIII

There needs not ask the obscure oracle Whereto these direimaginations tend. We read this sigil in the dust of Hell : " The Godshave given for this no happy end. What end should we desire, who graspthe gain We have despoiled from everlasting time, Who gather sunshine fromthe iciest rain And turn the dullest prose to
rhythm and rime? Think you we cannot warm our hands andlaugh Even at the fire that scatheth adamant? Think you we shall not kneadthe utmost chaff Into a bread worth Heaven's high sacrament And from thebitter dregs of Hell's own wine Distil a liquor utterly divine ?

XIV

Behold ! I have said. The destiny obscure Of this ourdeed obscure we shall not skry. We know " no happy end ! " -- but we endure,Abiding as the Pole Star in the sky. You mix your life in mine -- thensoul in soul We shoot forth, meteors, travelling on and on Far beyond Spaceto some dark-glimmering goal Where
never sun or star hath risen or shone ; Where we shallbe the evil light beyond time, Beyond space, beyond thought, supreme indeathless pang ; Nor shall a sound invade that hall of crime, Only thechamping of the insatiate fang Of the undying worm our love, fast wed Unto-- no happy end. Behold ! I have said.

The Alchemist

Love is sore wounded by the dragon shame, O maiden o'mine ! its life in jets of blood Languidly ebbs. I see the gathering flameAspire -- expire. I see the evil flood Of time roll even and steady overit, Bearing our God to the accurst ravines ; Bearing our God to the abysmalpit Whence never a God may rise. The wolfish
queens Of earth have set their faces stern and sour Againstus ; we are bidden to cease -- to cease ! Ha ! how eternity laughs downtheir hour, Dragoons their malice with its dominant peace. We are forbiddento love -- as one who tries At noontide to forbid the sun to rise.

There is an alchemy to heal the hurt Done to our loveby shame the dragon of ill With his allies the fear, that wars begirt Withclouds, and that sad sceptic in the will That sneaks within our citadel,that steals The keys and opens stealthily the gates When we are sleeping,when the dawn conceals Its earliest glimmer and our
blood abates Awhile its tide ! O mystic maiden o' mine,Did I not warn you of the insulting foes ? Blind worms that writhe forenvy, pious swine That gnash their teeth to espy the gold and rose Outflaming like the dawn when kiss for kiss Passed and for ever sealed ourbale and bliss.

III

Behold ! the elixir for the weeping wound ! Is it thatwine that Avallaunius poured From the Red Cup when fair Titania swoonedBefore the wrath of her insulted lord? Is it the purple essence that distilledFrom Jesu's side beneath the invoking spear ? Or that pale vase that Proserpinafilled From wells of her sad garden,
cold and clear And something overbitter and oversweet? Or in the rout of Dionysus did Some Bassarid prophesy in her holy heatOn such a draught as I for you have hid In this the Graal of mine enchauntedshrine To pour for you, o mystic maiden o' mine ?

Lola. The name is like the amorous call Of some bright-bosomedbird in bowers of blue. Tis like the great moon-crested waterfall Withhammering heart. 'Tis like the rain of dew That quires to the angel stars.'Tis like a bell Rung by an holy anchoret to summon Out of the labyrinthsof heaven and hell Some grave, majestic, and deep-breasted woman To bringher naked body shining, shining With flowers of heaven or flames of PhlegethonInto his hermit cell, her love entwining Into his life with spells thatmurmur on Black words ! For one thing be you sure the same My wine is asthe music of your name !

Maiden. Believe me, mystic maiden o' mine, That titleshall assure the throne of heaven To you -- the more so that your lovedivine That maidenhood to me hath freely given ? Nor have I touched theark with hands unholy, Nor with unsaintly kisses soiled the shrine : Nepenthe,amaranth, vervain, myrrh and moly Are
deathless blooms about our chaste design. Not you resisting,but myself refraining, Gives us the eternal spring, the elixir rare, Thatmage and sage have sought, and uncomplaining Never attained. We found itearly where The Gods find children. Maiden o' mine, be sure My wine shallbe as pure as you are pure !

Sweet. O my sweet, if all the heavenly portion Of nectarwere in one blue ocean poured Their fine quintessence were a vile abortionBitter and flat, foul, stagnant and abhorred Should one compare it withthe tiniest tithe Of one soft glance your eyes on me might shed, One gestureof your body limber and lithe, One smile -- the sudden white, the abidingred ! Then -- should one slander you in idiot verse By speaking of thesubtle seven-fold sweetness Your lips can answer me, all fate to amerceIn one mad kiss in all its mad completeness ? O Gods and Muses ! give megrace for this To match my wine for sweet with Lola's kiss.

VII

Mine. 'Tis impossible, but so it is, My mouth is Lola'sand my Lola's mine When in the trance, the death we call a kiss, Earthis done down, and the immanent divine Exists ! Impossible ! no mortal yetSuffered such bliss from the all-envious gods ; Whence we may guess weare immortal, set From the beginning over the
periods Of ages, set on thrones of jasper and pearl,Wreathed with the lilies of Eternity, While on our brow the starry clusterscurl Like flashes from the sunkissed jewelry, Dew on the flowers our garlands.Ay ! you are mine, And mine as you are shall I pour the wine.

VIII

Now I have told you all the ingredients That go to makethe elixir for our shame. Already make the fumes their spired ascents ;The bubbles burst in tiny jets of flame. And you and I are half-intoxicated(I hid the heart of madness in my verse) Therewith, like Maenads readyto be mated Before the Lord of bassara and
thyrse. Yea ! we are lifted up ! Crested Kithairon Shakeshis black mane of pines, and roars for prey. Heave all his bristling flanksof barb,d iron ! Flesh they red hunger on the bleeding day, O fang,d night! till from they mother maw We wrench the lion child of wonder and awe!

This wine is sovereign against all complaints. This isthe wine the great king-angels use To inspire the souls of sinners andof saints Unto the deeds that win the world or lose. One drop of this raisedAttis from the dead ; One drop of this, and slain Osiris stirs ; One dropof this ; before young Horus fled Thine hosts, Typhon ! -- this wine ismine and hers Ye Gods that gave it ! not in trickling gouts, But from thevery fountain whence 'tis drawn Gushing in crystal jets and ruby spoutsFrom the authentic throne and shrine of dawn. Drink it ? Ay, so ! and bathetherein -- and swim Out to the wide world's everlasting rim !

To drink one drop thereof is to be drunk. The firm feetstagger, and the world spins round; The fair speech stammers -- nature'sGod hath sunk Into some trivial place of the profound. But he who is drunkthereon is wholly sane, Being wholly mad ; he moves with space-wide wingsSees not a world -- engulphed in the inane! Nor needs a voice for speech,because he sings. What then of them who are most drunk together As youand I are, mystic maiden o' mine, Beyond Dionysus and his tedious tether,Beyond Kithairon and his topmost pine? Why, even now I am drunk who scribbleamiss These lines, not thinking -- save of your last kiss !

So Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! peals, And Lola ! Lola! Lola ! Lola ! echoes back, Till Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! reels Theworld in a dance of woven white and black Shimmering with clear gold greysas hell resounds With Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! and heaven responds With Lola! Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! -- swounds All light to clustered dazzling diamonds,And Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! rings Ever and again on these inchauntedears, And Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! swings My soul across to those inchauntedspheres Where Lola is God and priest and wafer and wine -- O Lola ! Lola! mystic maiden o' mine !

XII

I think the hurt is healed, for (by the law That formsour being) you must suffer as I, Hunger as I, rejoice as I, withdraw Intothe same far transcendental sky Of this initiated rapture. Hurt Of shamefor me is past, beholding Gods Only a little part of me, and dirt Suchas men fling and women paste, no odds. Moreover, by the subtle and austereVintage we drain, albeit we drain the lees, There is no headache for themorning drear, No fluctuant in our tideless ecstasies -- Whereby, o maideno' mine, the runic rime Tells me we have ree'd the riddle of old Time.

XIII

Never, o never shall I call you bride ! Never, o nevershall I draw you down Unto my kisses by the dim bedside Bathing my bodyin the choral crown, Your comet hair ! Nor smooth our shimmering skinsEach to the other and mount the sacred stair Even from the lesser to thegreater sins Up to the throne where sits the
royal and rare Vision of Pan. O never shall I raise Thisoriflamme, and lead the hope forlorn Up to the ruining bloody breach, todaze Death's self with pangs too blissful to be borne. No ! dear my maid.A maiden as you be You may be all your lily life, for me.

XIV

Alas ! the appointed term is sternly set Inviolable tothis our colloquy. For though you be afar, my Lola, yet You have been withme, whispering to me. I bow my head to write, and on the nape O' th' neckI feel your lips. I raise my head To dream -- your mouth achieves its lusciousrape -- I fall back -- you are on me -- I
am dead. Could it be better ? For I surely know Thatyou will follow me adown the deep When I lay pen and paper by, and go Intothe ardent avenues of sleep : -- There also will we drink the appeasingwine, Lola, my Lola, mystic maiden o' mine!

III

The Hermit

Lonely, o life, art thou when circumstance Occult or openkeeps us twain apart ! Lamenting through the dreary day there dance Anaemicthoughts ; the bruised and bloodless heart Beats as if tired of life, asI am tired Who all these days have never seen your face, Nor touched thebody that my soul desired, Nor have inhaled the perfume of the place Thatyou make sweet -- black dogs of doubt and fear Howl at my heels while careplies whip and spur, Driving me down to the dull damned dead sphere Whereis no sight or sound or scent of Her Our Lady Dian, but where hag and witchHecat bestrides her broom -- the bestial bitch !

Like to a country in the interdict Whose folk lack allthe grace of eucharist, My heart is ; all the pangs its foes inflict Arenaught to this unutterable mist Of absence. Where s the daily sacrament,The glad devouring of your body and blood, Sweet soul of Christ, my Lola? I am rent Even as the demons from the face of God
When they would peer into beatitude. I am barred fromthe incalculable bliss, The unutterable chrism, the soul s food, Of you,your gaze, your word, your touch, your kiss O Gods, Fates, Fiends -- whoeverplays the Pope ! Lift up your curse -- leave me not without hope !

III

My soul is like the savage upland plains Of utmost wretchednessin Tartary. No strength of sun, no fertilizing rains ! Only a bitter wind,intense and dry, Cuts over them. Hardly the memory stands Of one who travelsthere ; his pain forgets The golden bliss of all those other lands Wherehe was happy. So the blizzard frets
Its sterile death across my soul, and chills All hopeof life even from the rare sad seeds It blows from sunnier vales and happierhills, Though at the best they be but worthless weeds. I stand -- I scanthe infinite horizon Of hopeless hope -- yet I must travel on.

When for an hour we met (to call it meeting Barred bythe bleak ice of society From even the lover s glance, the lover s greeting.The intonation that means ecstasy !) One ray of saddest gladness lit thedusk : This -- that I saw you pale and suffering, A goddess armed withmyrrh instead of musk, With lips too cold to pray,
too dry to sing. For by that sigh I knew the adorableTruth, that you wept in secret over me. Your silence was the dumb despairof hell ; Who read it right read love. Strange cruelty, That who woulddie for you, sweet murderess, Should find his comfort in your bitterness!

For there you sat, you smiled, you chatted on, Myselfalone perceiving the keen cold Sword at your heart, the speechless malisonThat trembled on your tongue, the while it trolled Its senseless clamourof necessary wit, And woke the senseless necessary laughter, The senselessnecessary reply to it, The long sad silly
commonplace thereafter. Suppose we had risen, as quickas thought, and stood And caught and kissed -- what could the storm havedone Worse than this sickening fog of solitude ? Who can do worse thantake away the sun ? They better had take care, I think. One day We shallgo mad, and take ourselves away.

Yet we may hope ; for this, and not from fear, We keptour counsel ; we may hope anon To turn the corner of the evil year Andfind a brave new springtide coming on. Meanwhile by stealth I may invokeyour shade And clasp you to me, though it be a dream Or little more, avision from the Maid That rules by Phlegethon's
sepulchral stream. Nay ! it is more : by magic art compel(My soul !) my maiden s body to appear Visible, tangible, enjoyable Evento the senses of the amorous seer, Whose demon ministers through the gulphsand glooms Convey his mistress on their meteor plumes.

VII

More, I will visit you, forlorn who lie Crying for lackof me ; your very flesh Shall tingle with the touch of me as I Wrap youabout with the ensorcelled mesh Of my fine body of fire : oh ! you shallfeel My kisses on your mouth like living coals, And piercing like an arrowof barbed steel The arcane caress that shall unite our souls. Till, whenI see you next, I shall have doubt Whether your pallor be from love distressedOr from the exhaustion of the age-long bout Of love you had of me uponyour breast Held hard all night, with mouths that never ceased To engorgelove s single sacramental feast.

VIII

One writes, and all is easy. Drop the pen, And Paradiseis blotted out ! The earth, Fair as it seemed, becomes a hideous den, Andall life's promises of little worth. Like to a mother whose one child isdead, I wander, aching for the sight, the sound. The touch -- familiar,now inhibited. The child is under ground -- is under
ground -- The child is under ground -- who comforts her? The bastard fool her priest ? The useless clod Her husband ? The accursedmurderer Her God ? -- if so be that she hath a God. Foul curses from mylife's envenomed flood Break in a vomit of black foam and blood.

As one entranced by dint of cannabis, Whose sense of timeis changed past recognition, Whether he suffer woe or taste of bliss, Heloses both his reason and volition. He says one word -- what countlessages pass ! He walks across the room -- a voyage as far As the astronomer'swho turns his glass On faintest star-webs
past the farthest star And travels thither in the spirit.So It seems impossible to me that ever The sands of our ill luck shouldrun so low That splendidly success should match endeavour ; Yet it mustbe, and very soon must be : For I believe in you, and you in me.

To-morrow is the day when Christ our Lord Rose from thedead ; therefore, the shops are shut. Men may get drunk, or syphilized,or bored, Robbed, murdered, or regenerated, -- but, But they must not getletters, be amused, Or do a thing they want to do till Monday ; Whencecomes the universally-diffused And steady
popularity of Sunday. And yet I grumble ! any other dayI might receive a message from my Lola : " The siege is raised. Meet meas usual ! " Nay ! For me the sofa and Verlaine or Zola, Till Christ'saffair is over, and the town Runs a young resurrection of its own.

Were you a shop-girl and myself a clerk, Things mightbe better -- we could surely meet With due umbrellas in the dripping ParkAnd decorously spoon upon a seat. This is the penalty one pays for rankAnd fortune! Ah, my Lola, I am dying And mad -- or would God play me sucha prank As to dictate such verse while you
are crying ? Let me too weep, weep on ! weep out my soul,Weep till the world of sense was wept away And, dead, I reached you atthe glimmering goal Whither you had outrun me ! Weep, I say, Weep! It isbetter. Thus one earns a chrism -- Who ever gained one by cheap cynicism?

XII

Wherefore I duly invoke the God Of Tears that he may mingleyours and mine, Water therewith Life's unresponsive sod, And raise therefromsome sickly growth of vine Whose grape shall yield a bitter draught ofwoe Fit for the assuaging of a deadlier thirst Than Attis knew or Abelard: even so I suffer ; than some lovely nun accurst Who beats her breastupon the convent bars, Even so you suffer : let its draught restore Alllovers (that invoke the sad cold stars) Unto good luck : then you and Ionce more (Though still we were forbidden word and kiss) Might find a certainhappiness in this.

XIII

For truth it is, my maiden, we have had Already more thanour fair share of pleasure. The good god Dionysus ivy-clad Hath pouredus out a draught of brimming measure. Let us then rather give the lustiestpraise Our throats can sound than pray for further favour ; Even thoughour sorrow, eating up our days, Devour us also. Gods enjoy the savour OfMan's thanksgivings ; from their holy place Beholding mortals, they arewroth to see Tears; they rejoice to see a proud glad face Master of itselfand of eternity. Let us, reflecting on how dear we love, Shew laughterand courage to the gods above !

XIV

Now then the fickle song hath changed and shifted Roundfrom the dirge to the primordial paean. Lola ! my Lola ! let our voiceslifted Proclaim to all the Masters of the Aeon : We love each other ! letthem meditate Awhile on that glad cry, and you will see How they consult,and smile, and hint to fate That none can mar so
holy a destiny. We love each other ! loud and glad ;let heaven And all the gods be deafened ! Sing, O sing ! We love each other!through the storm-cloud riven Let the wild anthem of our triumph ring !Hark ! the glad chorus as we drag the stars In chains behind our mad colossalcars !

The Thuamaturge

Then the Lord answered me out of the wind Out of the whirlwinddid He answer me; Gird up thy loins now like a man, and find If thou canstanswer like a man to Me! Who art thou darkening counsel by thy word, Andin thine ignorance accusing Them Who, ere thy prayer was formulated, heardAnd crowned it with its
passion's diadem ? Who is the Son of Man, that We shouldmind him ? Or visit the vain virgin of his pleasance ? Yet ever as we wentWe stood behind him And compassed her with Our continual presence ? Fromthe black whirlwind the most high God sayeth : Why did ye doubt, o ye oflittle faith ?

I answer Thee out of the utmost dust. I am a worm, I abasemyself, I cry Against myself that I am found unjust More than all theythat dwell beneath the sky. I do repent, I do lament, o Thou Who hast watchedover us and cared for us, Beating i' the dust this consecrated brow, Andanswer Thee in broken murmur thus,
That I am altogether base and vile, That Thou art altogethergood and great, That Thou hast given the guerdon grace for guile Even whileI lifted up myself to Fate And cursed Thee. And from me who scorned topray Thou hast rolled the sad sepulchral stone away.

III

On this wise ; that by uttermost good Fortune I met youwalking out in London city, Even when from Heaven I did not dare importuneHardly to pass your house ! The Gods took pity They whirled us in a chariotof fire About the highest heavens for many an age ! So Regent's Park mayseem to hot desire ; So the archangel
gets a cabman's wage ; So all the aeons that pass stillleave one time To take one's lunch at the appointed hour -- This is thedifference between prose and rime And this the great gulf fixed for leafand flower. The British public grunts and growls and grovels, Swillingits hogwash of neurotic novels.

We knew enough to wake to choral rapture All answeringNature : I will swear the sun Came out ; you saw the moulting trees recaptureTheir plumage, and the green destroy the dun. Nothing could jar ; the Britishworkman took A kindly interest in our kind caresses ; The loafing nursemaidand the musing cook Agreed with us entirely. Love impresses Its seal uponthe world ; is skilled to wake The sympathy of everything that lives. Kindliness,flows, not venom, from the snake ; The trodden worm dies duly -- but forgivesThe cabman asked four shillings for the job, And almost boggled at my gladten bob !

Oh ! it was rapture and madness once again To turn ourtears to kisses brimming over The mouths that never were too wide and fainFor lover to hold intercourse with lover. Ah ! we were owls of dusk todoubt the light, Bats to mistrust the Wolf's tail's holy warning : " Sorrowendureth maybe for a night, But joy must surely cometh in the morning ".Joy, ay ! what joy poured straight from the high treasure, The inexhaustibletreasure of delight The gods have poured us, pouring overmeasure Becausewe love with all our life and might. Believe me, it is better than allprayers To show the gods our love surpasses theirs !

Nay, even thus you could not credit Fate, Even in my armsclose cuddled as you lay With hard-shut eyes and lips inebriate With theirown kisses all this happy day. Nay, but blaspheming you put hope aside,Bade me forget you, swore yourself a liar, Smiled through the words becauseyou knew you lied Knew that -- what
waters can put out our fire ? So we amused ourselveswith cunning brisk Careful arrangements to forget each other. You cut thatlove-curl from your neck at risk Of comment -- at the slightest -- fromyour mother. You gave it me -- God forget me, dear girl, When I forgetto treasure up that curl!

VII

Your loveliness should help me to forget you ; Your murmurous" I love you " like soft bees Humming should help ; although my kissesfret you, They are intended but to give you ease, And help you to forgetme ; then, the fixed Ardent intentness of my cat-green eyes Flecked withred fire is like a potion mixed Straight out of
Lethe, or divination lies. If there be truth in augury,your lips Fastened to mine should be a certain spell To put your memoryof me in eclipse : -- In short, if all be true that sages tell, Two daysof absence with roast beef and beer Will cure me of you perfectly, my dear!

VIII

Why did you play with such ungracious folly ? Becauseour passion is too bitter-sweet ? Because the acute and maddening melancholyIs stronger than the rapture when we meet ? Because you weep beyond yourown control Like to one wounded bleeding inwardly ? Because you are notthe mistress of your soul
Mighty enough to master fate and me ? It cuts me to theheart to see the brine Not falling from your bad bewitching eyes, To feelyou are weeping in the central shrine Whose woes the peristyle may notsurprise. I want to treat you as a lover rather ; You make me lecture toyou like a father !

Write in you heart, dear maid, that Hitherto The Lordhath helped us. Give him duly praise (As I have given Him for making you).Pray not, ask not for wealth and length of days Or even for wisdom, lestone day you find That you are saddled with some thousand grooms (You bearthe case of Solomon in mind !) All in
frock-coats and helmeted (with plumes) -- A scarcelypleasant prospect ! Just give thanks O Lord, for what we have received,Amen ! And then if Jordan overflows his banks, Our vines increase, andone seed turns to ten, Keep on thanksgiving ! Even if things go wrong,Howls are less pleasant to the ear than song.

Keep on thanksgiving ! We are tenfold blest Beyond others,simply having found each other. Were we to part for ever, breast from breast,Now, even now, there would not be another In all the earth that shouldnot envy aright With plenty cause our short-lived happiness. No life canhold one half-an-hour's delight Such as
we had -- this morning ! Why then, bless, Bless all thatlives and moves and hath its being ! Bless all the Gods, without omittingone ! Bless all the company of heaven, agreeing To veil their fires toour stupendous sun ! Bless all the lesser glories that excite In the greatgladness of our mother light !

How purely unexpected was the chance ! When things lookedblackest, on a sudden, the sun ! Chance is another word for ignorance ;We do not know how all these things are done. But what has happened oncemay happen again, And " Hitherto the Lord hath helped us ", dear ! " Historyrepeats itself " -- which
makes it plain That " Evermore the Lord will help us." Fear And sorrow are folly ; you must sleep o' nights (Try reading me!) and I can promise you You will awake to more divine delights Than everin the world you guessed or knew. Stick to it ! One fine day you'll findon waking Me in your arms, and -- oh ! your body aching !

XII

This is an effort of prophetic skill Not passing rangeof human calculation. A woman gets exactly what she will If she keeps willingit sans divagation. To have me secretly and altogether Yours is your will-- unless your kisses lied. Sooner or later we shall slip the tether Andall the world before us deep and wide Gape like the abyss, through whichwe fall to find Strange equilibrium without support, Strange rapture withoutsense, and void of mind Strange ecstasies that mock the name of thought.Sooner or later, Lola ! Circumstance Bows before those who never miss achance.

XIII

This is enough to make a donkey laugh ! I talk like aDutch uncle ; and you listen Like a man reading his own epitaph. But, really! Truly ! How our glad eyes glisten! How our hearts rump ! Whatever wemay say, Have never a doubt, Lord, that it's all thanksgiving ! If Thoudost thus for people every day, How very easy Thou must make a living !We would be like Thee ! if we had the power We would fill all folk withsupernal blisses, Breed life's sweet briar to the full June flower Andon their praises feed our proper kisses. For as you said " However kindthe gods are, We could be kinder yet I think the odds are ".

XIV

Let me take leave of you as heretofore With solemn kissand sacred reverence ! I love you better and I love you more Daily, andwhether you are hither or hence. I adore you as I adore the holy ones Thatdo abide exalted in their shrine Starry beyond mere splendour of starsand suns, Drunken beyond mere Dionysian
wine. Thus do I hold you ; thus I pray you hold Me asa secret and a blessed chrism That you have gained to adorn your houseof gold By some strange silent sacred exorcism. You have said 'I love you'-- sacraments are true - I exchange the salutation. I love you.

The Black Mass

Lord ! on love's altar lies the sacrament. O willing victim,eager to be slain, Lusting to feel the knife, the life-veil rent, Assumptionenergized by death ! O fain To feel the murderous ardour of the priestClutch at his throat, theurgic frenzy fly About the initiates of the Paschalfeast And know it centred in the dim dead I Loosed by the pang -- eventhus you know it is, Even thus, when I invoke your harsh caress, Put upmy mouth to your immortal kiss, Confess you for my lady and murderess --In mine own life-blood I exult to float Even as your white fangs fastenin my throat.

You stand away -- to let your long lash curl About thisaching body, fiery rings Of torture, o my hot enamoured girl Whose passionrides me like a steed and stings. Like to a wounded snake infuriated Withpain, you drive your reeking kisses home Into my flesh, their poisonousfrenzy mated With this delirious anguish, bitter foam Of storm on someinnavigable sea. Whip, whip me till I burn ! Whip on ! Whip on !
Is it not madness that you wake in me ? Is not this cursethe devil's orison ? Ah, devil! devil! when you grip me and glare Intomine eyes, and answer all the prayer!

III

A virgin with the lusts of Messaline, A goat-soul in thebody of a saint, You writhe on me with cruel and epicene Phrenzy and agonyof acute restraint. You ache -- you burn -- you dizzy me with blows --You call me coward and eunuch, who say No. Volcanic child ! upon your maskingsnows I will not raise my rod, that forth may flow Torrents of blazinglava, that shall hiss And roar, and ruin all the glad green world. I likethe attack of your seducing kiss The lashes of your love about me curled,Better than slack delight and murmuring sigh -- Flowers by the road tosad satiety.

Spit in my face ! I love you. Clench your fists And beatme ! Still, I love you. Let your eyes Like fiery opals or mad amethystsCurse me ! I love you. Let your anger rise And with your teeth tear bleedingbits of flesh Out of my body -- kill me if you can ! I love you. I willhave you fair and fresh, A maenad maiden maddening
for a man. Ay ! you shall weary in the erotic craving! I'll have you panting -- aching to the marrow -- Exhausted, but a maiden(Lesbia raving : " Catullus brings a song and not a sparrow ") Famishedwith love, fed full with love, your soul Still on the threshold of theunenvied goal.

The goal of love is gotten not of these White-bloodedfools that haste and marry and tire. They grasp and break their bubbleecstasies ; We know desire the secret of desire. We have the wisdom ofthe saints of old Who know that what divinely is begun Glows from dawn'sgrey to noon's deliberate gold Darkens to crimson
-- and day's race is run. For us the glamour of the dawnsuborning, We escape the enervating heat of noon : We hear Astarte forAdonis mourning, And close our lover's calendar at June. Ah, Lola ! butwe suffer. Hell's own worm Aches less than this, and hath an earlier term.

You grind your tiny shoes into my face ; You roll uponthe furs before the fire, Smiting and cursing in the devil's race Whosegoal and prize is Unassuaged Desire. You rub your naked body against mine: You madden me by blows and bites and kisses ; You make me drunken withyour stormy wine ; We swoon, we roll into unguessed abysses Of tortureand of bliss ; we wake and yearn, Doing violence on ourselves -- anon weare slain, Slain and reborn again to ache and burn : Aeon on aeon thundersthrough our brain. -- At last you see, my maiden ? Kiss me ! Kiss ! Thereis no end -- happy or not -- to this !

VII

There is a respite -- we must part anon. Short are thehours of sweetness : it is well. Could such a bout of murder carry on Weshould drink poison and awake in hell ; Or being but mortal, or nearlymortal, yield Exhausted spirit to the clamant flesh ; The book of commonlove should be unsealed, And we be caught within the common mesh That catchescommon folk. O God ! bite hard ! Smite down rebellious flesh with hideouspain ! Bite hard ! Smite hard ! By bruises scarred and marred Love thisexultant face ! Again ! Again ! O Lola ! Lola ! Lola ! Kiss me, Kiss! Nay-- nay! Kiss not ! I cannot bear the bliss.

VIII

You are a devil gloating on the pain You suffer and Isuffer ; you laugh shrill Over the pangs of those pale fools, the twainWhom we deceive, whom we shall surely kill Whispering a word of this. Ah! joy it is That false to faith is all the honied pressing; A traitor triumphsin each stolen kiss, Caligula and Cressida caressing.
You love yourself for stealing me away From the proudlovely wife ; you love me more That in my arms a prostitute you lay, Andto your troth-plight lover played the whore When mouth to mouth we clung,and breath for breath Exchanged the royal accolade of death.

I love you for your cruelty to them ; I love you for yourcruelty to me ; I see their blood glittering a diadem Upon your dazzlingbrows ; my blood I see Sucked deep into your body, curling round Like firein every artery and vein Massed in your heart, colossal and profound. Iam mad for you to brand me with the stain Of your own vice. Our souls,a murdering crew Of itching Mullahs, wallow, dervish-drunk. Love surgesat the pang ! Our poisonous dew Of sweat and kisses blinds us. A mad monkKissing fanatically the cross that had Devoured his vitals is not halfas mad !

Ay ! rub yourself, you big lascivious cat, On the electricsoft, the wanton fur ! Call upon Hera ! You've a furious gnat Worth anygadfly ever sent from her ! Call upon Aphrodite ! she will send No sparrowsfrom her prudish Paphian home ! Call upon Artemis ! She will not bend Tolift you from your seas of bitter foam ! Nay ! wrap yourself and rub yourselfin silk ! Drink of my blood, engorge my fruitless sperm ! For you weresuckled on the poisonous milk That betrays virgins to the deathless worm.Are we not glad thereof? Kiss, Lola, kiss, Comrade of mine in the uttermostabyss !

Follow Iacchus from the Indian vales ! Set him with songupon the milk-white ass ! Follow Iacchus while the sunset pales ! Revelit on the flower-enamelled grass While the moon lasts ; then plunge intrackless woods ! Slay beasts unheard-of and blaspheming kings ! Minglein madness with strange sisterhoods ! Dare black
Aornos with Daedalian wings ! All words ! words ! there'sa hunger to express The infinite pangs, the infinite mighty blisses Storedin the house of rapture and distress Whose key is one of our blood-taintedkisses Whose fume arises from the accursed sod Where we lie burning andblaspheming God.

XII

So in this agony of enforced silence The sober song breaksto a phrenzied scream ; The shattering brain admits the mad god's violence,And wild things course as in an evil dream : Devils and dancers, druidrites and dread, Horrible symbols scarred across the sky, Invisible terrorsof the quick and dead, Impossible phantoms in mad revelry Conjoined inspinthriae of bestial form, Human-faced toads, and serpent-headed women,All lashed and slashed by the all-wandering storm Caricature of all thingsholy and human -- -- Such are the discords that absolve the strain As thiswild threnody dissolves the brain.

XIII

Forgive me, o my holy and happy maid, Lola, sweet Lola,for the imagination Of all things monstrous that your soul dismayed Readson the palimpsest of my elation. Simple and sweet and chaste our love isever, And these its wild and mystic characters That rage and storm in impotentendeavour To unveil our glory
to our worshippers. Lola, dear Lola, mystic maiden o'mine, Let us not mingle with the ribald rout That throng our temple. Close,Palladian shrine, With our reverberate glory rayed about ! Abide within-- with me ! Let silence sever This velvet 'now' from that unclothed 'forever' !

XIV

Though I adorn my thought with angel tresses Or pluckits pallium from the demon-kings, My spirit rests at ease in your caresses,And cares not for the song, so that it sings. Life is but one caress, onesong of gladness, One infinite pulse of love in tune with you ; One infinitepulse, upsoaring into madness, Down
sinking to content. O far and few The stars that followour lofty pilgrimage Into the abyss of silence and delight Beyond the glamourof the world, the age, The illusions of the light and of the night. Whereforeaccept these meteor flames that dance Pale coruscations to our brilliance!

The Adept

Even as the holy Ra that travelleth Within his bark uponthe firmament, Looking with fire-keen eyes on life and death In simplestate and cardinal content : Even as the holy hawk that towers sublimeInto the great abyss, with icy gaze Fronting the calm immensities of timeAnd making space to shudder ; so I praise With infinite contempt the joyousworld That I have figured in this brain of mine. The sails of this life'sargosy are furled ; The anchor drops in those abodes divine. Master ofself and God, freewill and Fate, I am alone -- at last -- to meditate.

Wrapped in the wool of wizardry I sit ; Mantled in mystery; the little things That I have made through weariness of wit, Stars, cells,and whorls, all wonder in their wings ! These Gods and men, these laws,these hieroglyphs And sigils of my fancy seem to spire In worship up mineeverlasting cliffs I built between my will and my desire. They reach menot ; I made a monstrous crowd, Innumerable monuments of thought, But noneis equal ; this high head is bowed In vain to the wise God it would havewrought, Had not -- Who sitteth on the Holy Throne Thereby must make himselfto be alone.

III

See ! to be God is to be lost to God. That which I clingto is my proper essence ; Nor is there aught at any period That may endurethe horror of my presence. I conjure up dim gods ; how frail and thin !How fast they slip from this appalling level ! This is the wage of thefellatrix Sin Drunk on the icy death-sperm of the
Devil. I were a maniac did I contemplate The outwardglory and the inward terror, Sick with the hideous light myself createFrom the dark certainty of gloom and error. For I am that I am -- behold! this 'I' Hath nothing constant it may measure by.

Should I take pleasure in the fond perfume That curlsabout my altars ? in the throats That chant my glory in the decent gloomOf lofty ministers ? Shall the blood of goats And bulls and men send upa fragrant steam To me, who am ? Shall shriek of pythoness Or wail of augurmove this dreadful dream To some less melancholy
consciousness? I have created men, who made them godsOf their own excrements, and worshipped them. I cannot match these calculatingclods Who twist themselves a faecal diadem From all the thorny thoughtsthat plague them most ; Break wind, and call upon the Holy Ghost.

Yet I abide; for who is Pan is all. He hath no refugein deceitful death. What soul is immanent may never fall; What soul isBreath can never fail of breath. The pity and the terror and the yearningOf this my silence and my solitude Are broken by the blazing and the burningOf this dread majesty, this million-hued Brilliance
that coruscates its jetted fire Into the infinite aether; this austere And noble countenance set fast in dire And royal wrath,this awful face of fear Before whose glance the ashen world grows grey,Crashes, and chaos crumbles all away.

As when the living eyes of man behold The embalmed seductionsof a queen of Khem Wrapped with much spice and linen and red gold And guardiangods on every side of them ; Yet inasmuch as life is life, they shrink,Shrivel and waste to ashes as men gaze : So doth the world grow giddy atthe brink Of these unfathomable eyes, that blaze Swifter and deadlier thanstorms or snakes. Then -- o what wonder, as I strain afar The basiliskflame ! -- what breathless wonder wakes That I behold unsinged a silverstar O joy ! O terror ! O ! -- O can it be There is a thing that is, apartfrom me ?

VII

I travelled, so the star. We neared ; we saw Each other,knew each other ; in your face Mine equal self with majesty and awe Abode; and thus we stayed for a great space. What was the manner of our countenance?I saw you seated, as a great lost God With blasphemy exulting in your glanceAnd horror at your lips ; my soul was shod With glory, and your body bathedin glory, So that from out the uttermost abyss The very darkness churneditself to hoary And phosphor foam of agony and bliss. The authentic sealof our majestic might Stamped on the light in light the light of light.

VIII

So presently, most solemnly and slowly, Our fingers touchedand caught ; our lips reached forth And with conscious purpose smote theirholy Lives into one, and loosed their common wrath. Unto the ends of ourdead universe Their frenzy rolled; henceforth no prince or power Shouldlift the sterile strength of that
one curse Even to bring one thought to birth one hour.For now we knew ; " it is a lonely thing To sit supreme upon the singlethrone ; " But being come thus far, goes glittering : " It is a lovelything to be alone ! " Silence! Beware to speak the fatal word That mightinweave our two-ply with a third !

Wherefore again in sexless sanctity The mighty lingamrears its stilled sublime ; The mighty yoni spreads its chastity Againstthe assaulting gods of space and time. Rather be Phoedra than Semiramis! I will deny you, though you doom to dare To abdicate, and risk the spiritkiss In the embraces of the wanton air. Why should
we cast our crowns to gods unborn ? Why yield our bleedinggarlands till the hour When to ourselves we seem a shame and scorn Andseek some craft to span a statelier power ? Not for a while evoke thatsombre spell ! The present still exceeds the possible.

That is his truth that seems to sink supine Into yourbosom's bliss, the scented snare, Killed by your kisses shuddering in hisspine And blinded in the bowers of your hair ! This is his truth, who seemsto writhe and sob Beneath the earthquake pangs of your caress, Whose heartburns out in one volcanic throb, Whose life is
eaten up of nothingness This is his truth, and yours,that seem to be Mere beauteous bodies gripped in epicene And sterile passion,all unchastity In being chaste, all chaste in our obscene And sexless mouthings,that repugnant roll Their bestial billows on the snow-pure soul.

This is our truth, that only Nothing is, And Nothing isan universe of Bliss ; That loves denote supernal ecstasies, And saintshiplurks in the colossal kiss. Loves are the letters of the holy word Thatcontradicts the curse " Let Being be ! " Since all things, even one thing,are absurd ; And no thing is the utmost ecstasy.
Kisses induct the soft and solemn tune That Israfel shallblow on Doomisday -- Your silky eyes are blue as that pale moon (For ereit dies it sickens into grey) That witches see, whose eager violence Abortsthe gods of cosmic permanence.

XII

The uninstructed and blaspheming man Looks on the worldand sees it void and base. Let him endure its horror as he can ! Thereis no help for his unhappy case. The love-taught magus, the hermaphrodite,Knows how to woo the Mother, and awake her ; Beholding, in the very self-samesight, The self-illumined image of
the Maker. I love, and you are wise ; our spirits danceA merry measure to the music moving In waves through that mirific brilliance.Will you first tire of wit, or I of loving ? Tire ? O thou sea of love,thy ripples run Into themselves, to my serener sun !

XIII

For you I built this faery dome of words And crowned itwith the cross of my desire. I circled it with songs of blessed birds Andcradled all in the celestial fire. The stars enfold it ; the eternal sunAnd moon give light; nor clouds nor rain intrude; Only the dews of Dionysusrun In this intoxicating solitude. I have
begemmed its marble flame of spires With jewels fromthe bliss of God, and set Chryselephantine columns curled like fires Beloweach misty opal minaret. Is there no window to the east ? Behold The eyesof Love, your love, the essential gold !

XIV

For me therein shall you erect a statue Even as you knowme with the mystic eyes Hungrily, hungrily a-gazing at you, Afeast uponour strange sad ecstasies. Make me the aching mouth parched-up with blissesThe lips curled back, the breath desiring you, The whole face fragrantwith your full free kisses, The soul thereof exhaling scented dew Bornin the utmost world where we in truth Abide like Bacchus with a
Bassarid Drunk with our art, love, beauty, force andyouth ; But place that head upon a pyramid Of snaky lightnings, lest --but that shall be Always a secret between you and me.

Or, an you will, evoke me as the Sphinx With lion's claws,bull's breast, and eagle's wings ! You are my riddle, and the answer sinksBelow the deep essential base of things, Rises above the utmost brim ofthought And bubbles over as impatient song. Yet " We are one " is all,and all is naught ; And this one " one ", and " all ", and " naught " Thewhole content of our imagining, [shall throng The great arcanum in theadytum hid From men, and though we carve or kiss or sing, The Sphinx isdumb, and blind the Pyramid. --Now our affairs are ordered perfectly. Giveme your mouth, your mouth, and let us die !

VII

The Vampire

Let me away ! Then is it not enough That you have wonme to your wickedness ? That we have touched the strange and sexless loveWhose heart is death ? That you and I express The poison of a thousandevil flowers And drain that cup of bitterness, my Lola ? That you havekilled my safe and sunny hours -- A Venus to seduce Savonarola ! Why haveyou taken this most monstrous shape, Imperious malison and hate flung after? You clutch me like a gross lascivious ape, And like a gloating devil'srings the laughter. O sweet my maid, bethink yourself awhile ! Recall theglad kiss and the gentle smile !

Where are you ? Who am I ? O who am I ? Why do I lie andlet you ? I was strong -- I was so strong I might have bid you die Withone swift arrow from my quiver, song. Now you are over me ; you hold mehere; You grip my flesh till bleeding bruises start ; You threaten me with-- can I name the fear ? I always knew you never had a heart. God ! whoam I ? My Lola, speak to me ! Tell me you love me ; tell me -- I am dazedWith something terrible and strange I see Even in the mouth that kissed,the lips that praised. You leer above me like a brooding fiend Waitingto leap upon a babe unweaned.

III

Kiss me at least ! We always were good friends -- Kissme for old times' sake -- Kiss me just once ! I know this ends -- as everysweet thing ends ! But -- say you are not angry ! Ere you pounce, Forgiveme ! You could make me glad to die, I think, if you would only kill mekindly. Just one swift razor-stroke -- cut low! --
and I Would pass the portal happily and blindly. Yes! I would like to think the fountain sprang Straight from my throat andslaked your aching thirst, Shot to your hot red heart one red hot pang,Then left you cool and smiling as at first. I give you freely my heart'sagony. But oh ! oh ! speak to me ! do speak to me !

God ! do not wait then ! kill me now ; have done ! Whydo you watch me mute and immobile, Sitting like death between me and thesun, A sphinx with eyes of jade and jaws of steel ? Let me rise up to kneelto you and pray ! I hate this hell of agony supine. You killed her yesterday; kill me to-day ; Let me not hang like
Christ ! Now snap my spine ! Surely you know the trick-- when from your lips I see a thin chill stream of stark black blood Trickling,the stream of hate that glows and grips My lesser life within its sickeningflood. Be pitiful, and end your cruelty ! Suck out the life of me, thatI may die !

O brooding vampire, why art thou arisen ? Why art thouso unquiet in the tomb ? Why has thy corpse burst brilliant out of prison? Whence get the lips their blood, the cheeks their bloom ? Is there nogarlic I may wear against thee ? No succour in the consecrated Host ? Nay,if thou slay not it is thou restrainst thee. I am the
virgin, thou the Holy Ghost. There is no comfort nordefence nor peace From thee (and all thy malice) in the world : Thou sittestthrough the aching centuries Like the old serpent in his horror curledReady to strike home -- and yet not striking Till thou hast lipped thevictim to thy liking !

Am I not beautiful ? Your lithe mouth twitches As if alreadyyou were glutted on This fair firm flesh that fears you and yet itches-- You know it -- for some master malison. Perhaps you mean to let me go? Ah sweet ! How seven times sweet if you will let me go -- Oh ! Oh ! Iwant to worship at your feet. Why do you stab me with a smiling " No "? Say " no " at least -- to see you sitting there So dumb is madness --why then, let me go ! I will -- and you sit quiet -- did you dare ? Toeverything the answer still is " No ! " You coward ! Coward ! Coward !let me rise ! -- I cannot bear the hunger in your eyes.

VII

You are afraid of me -- I see it now. You know that ifyou loose me, never again Will I be such a fool. I wonder how I ever tookthis destiny of pain. Loose me ! You dare not. Take your eyes away ! Youdare not. O you laugh ! You trust your power There you are wrong -- buthad you turned to-day I would have murdered you within the hour. Yes !you do well -- you know the dreadful weight Pale silence sheds, not Atlascould uplift. You know the spell to conquer love and hate, To win the worldand win it at a gift. You are afraid of that then -- had you spoken Youfear the spell upon me had been broken !

VIII

Even that taunt has left you smiling still, And silentstill -- and that is ten times worse. Where is my will, my adamantine will?Curse God and die ? I can nor die nor curse. Ah, but I can. The agony extends-- I am wrapt up all in an equal hell. There is a point at which emotionends. I am come through to peace, though
pain yet swell Its paean in my every vein and nerve.Try me, o God, convulse me to the marrow ! I am it's element ; I shallnot swerve. I am Apollo too ; I loose one arrow Swift enough, straightenough to conquer you. O Sphinx ! Gaze on ! I can be silent too.

* * * * *

Now then the pressure and the pain increase, And evernearer grows the exulting rose Your face ; and like a Malay with his krissThat runs amok your passion gleams and grows. It shakes me to the soul: by that you are stilled ; You hold yourself together, like a man Stabbedto the heart, who, knowing he is killed, Lets
his whole life out in his yataghan, And strikes one masterstroke.So now you breathe Close on my face ; you strip me of defence ; You singin obscure words whose crowns enwreathe My forehead with their viewlessviolence, So that I lie, as at the appointed term, Awaiting the foul kissesof the worm.

You close on me ; by God, you breed in me ! My flesh corruptis tingling with the kiss Of myriads, like the innumerable sea In wavesof life that feeds its boundless bliss On the eroded earth. These are yourthoughts, Your living thoughts that throng my stagnant veins ! Your jackalshowl among the holy courts ; Your monster
brood of devils in my brains Laughs ; oh ! they feaston my decaying blood ; They gnaw the last sweet morsel from my bones. --As on the parched-up earth there flames the flood Of the monsoon, blackdust and barren stones Leap into green, so I whose epitaph Your passionwrites, awake to live -- to laugh !

Even to the end of all must I resist. New deaths, newbirths, each minute boiling over. I can go on for ever, an you list --Now, now ! O no ! I will not. O my lover ! Spare me ! Enough ! Take pity! Mutely moans Your mouth in little sobs and calls and cries And catchesof the breath, whose bliss atones In once for all the long-drawn agonies.Now that the pain swings over into pleasure, Now that the union which isdeath is done, The wine of bliss rolls out in brimming measure. The moonis dead -- all glory to the Sun ! Now, now ! Oh no! Oh no ! I penetrate-- I pierce. Enough. God ! God ! how Thou art great !

XII

Then closer, closer. No ! -- then stop -- think well Whatis this wonder we awake. Now think We are cast down to the abyss of hellOr tremble upon heaven's dizzy brink -- Which ? All's the same. Go on.No -- what is this ? Why dally ? To the hilt ! Ah mine, ah mine ! Kissme -- I cannot kiss you -- kiss me ! Kiss ! Oh ! God ! Oh God ! Forgiveme ; I am thine. -- Horses and chariots that champ and clang ! The roarof blazing cressets that environ The form that fuses in the perfect pang.A blast of air thorough the molten iron -- One scream of light. Creatingsilence drops Into that silence when creation -- stops.

XIII

So -- e finita la commedia. " And if the King like notthe comedy " (Twine in your hair the fallen gardenia !) " Why then, belikehe likes it not, pardie ! " What will the " King " -- the British Public-- say When they perceive their sorrow was my fun, Their Hecuba my mockingBrinvilliers ? I neither know nor care. What we have done We have done.Admit, though, you are rare and rich ! This palely-wandering knight hasfound a flame Both merciless and beautiful, you witch ! You play the game,and frankly, as a game ! This is the hour of prattle -- tell me true !I have never net another such. Have you ?

XIV

Yet all the comedy was tragedy. I truly felt all thatI farced to feel. Because the wheel revolves, forsooth, shall we Deny atop and bottom to the wheel ? I am the centre too, and stand apart. I amthe All, who made the All, in All Who am, being Naught. I am the bloodbrightHeart. Wreathed with the Snake, and chaos is
their pall Thou art as I ; this mystery is ours. Theseblood-bought bastards of futility Can never know us, fair and free-bornflowers. So they may say -- they will -- of you and me : " These poetsnever know green cheese from chalk : " This is the sort of nonsense loverstalk. "

VIII

The Initiation

Lola ! now look me straight between the eyes. Our fateis come upon us. Tell me now Love still shall arbitrate our destinies,And joy inform the swart Plutonic brow. Behold ! the doom foreseen, thedoom embraced, Fastens its fang ; the gods of death and birth Make friendsto slay us, Pilate interlaced With Herod in obscene and murderous mirth.Lola ! come close ! confront them ! Let us read The book once sealed, nowopen to our gaze ! Avenge our love and vindicate our breed With courageto the ending of the days. Since fall we must, o arm ourselves aright,Fall fighting in the forefront of the fight !

First ; let us face the foemen, number them, Measure theirarms ! Who smiteth us ? We wove In grove and garden many a diadem Dewywith all the purity of love. The Hermes of the orchard lets the stringSlip from his finger, and the arrow speeds Striking our love beneath theflamy wing So that the heart of heaven breaks and bleeds. That poisonedshaft fed with corrupting germs Hath stricken us to earth : the wound corrodes,Breeding within us all its noisome worms, All the black larvae of the accurstabodes : -- The virgin of our reed-shrill ecstasies Raped by the stinkingsatyr of disease !

III

I who have loved you -- shall I love you now, Your teethdropt out, your fair flesh fallen away, The Crown of Venus on your itchingbrow, The coppery flush, the leprous scurf of grey ? The god that rotsthe living flesh of man Fills up your mouth -- one ulcer -- with his groansAnd all our blessings choke and turn to ban The
beast that gnaws the marrow of our bones. Caught in corruptcaresses of disease, Shall we dispute us with his fervour, fain Too woowith sores your turbid arteries And kiss black ulcers in your spotted brain? We married close, my Lola, with a kiss : -- Now for the lifelong lover,Syphilis !

Yea ! but we love. We win. The body's curse Is bitter,but he hath not won the whole. There's more than life in this brave universe.Death cannot touch the secret of the soul ! Nor shall we shrink, althoughthis further pang Strike through the liver with its fiery dart, The hope-- the horrid hope -- whose gleaming fang Now stirs, a serpent's, underneathyour heart ! For lo ! not vainly we invoked the god That looseneth thegirdle of a maid ; Even now draws nigh the dreadful period That makethall the mother-world afraid. With rotten fruit your belly is grown big-- Thanks to the bastard god that cursed the fig !

Your swollen neck is grown a swollen breast Gushing withpoisoned milk; your breath is caught In quick sharp gasps ; you get norsleep nor rest, The monster moving in you in his sport. Surely a monster! some unnatural thing, Some Minotaur of shame, no egg of pride To hatchthe miniature of love and spring In
your own image, subtly glorified. White swan you were! not Zeus but Cerberus Hath ravished you ; you brood on harpy eggs --Sweet sister ! is the wine too sour for us ? We have drunk deep -- nay! nay ! but to the dregs! And all their bitterness is braver brew Thanthe dull syrup of the pious crew.

Still we can laugh at burgesses and churls In our excessof agony and lust. We pity these poor prudes, insipid girls And tepid boys,these creatures of the dust. We pity all these meal-mouthed montebanksThat prate of Jesus, ethics, faith and reason, These jerry-built dyspeptics,stuccoed cranks, Their lives one dreary plain, one
moist dull season Like their grey land. O costive crapulence! They ache and strain within the water- closet Of church and State, theirshocked bleat of offence : " This poet's life was such a failure ". Wasit ? Fools! our worst boredom was a loftier thrill Than all you ever felt-- or ever will.

VII

If we are weary, it is flesh that faints. We cannot bearsuch worlds of happiness. Even in this torture that consumes and taints,We writhe in bliss, one terrible caress Of the great Gods of Hells. Ah! surely, dear, Our way is wise, transcending human woe : We are most happyand of great good cheer. What do we know? It matters not. We know. Thisis enough, that we have slain the Sphinx, Worked out her wizardry, dissolvedher doom ; And though her wine be death to him that drinks We shall carousefor ever in the tomb. We drank bull's blood ; and all our pangs immenseAre better than eupeptic innocence.

VIII

Ah ! if flesh fails, may we not also fail ? May not thevulture liars gather round Our death-beds, and drone out their dismal taleWith drawl and whine, the Galilean sound Of snuffle and twang ? May nottheir stinking souls Interpret our last sighs as penitence When we closeup the coruscating scrolls Of our life's joy, seal up
the jar of sense To broach the starry flagon -- splendidspilth ? These creeping cravens shall be circumvented; They shall not belchtheir flatulence and filth On us, or tell the world that we repented. Come,as we strained it, let us break the tether In the last luxury -- to dietogether !

Let Death steal softly through the gate of sleep On tiptoe! win away the maiden life On velvet pinions to his azure steep ; At ease,at peace, to woo her for a wife ! His white horse waiting quietly withoutLet him push gently the delicious door And take us. We have lived. Howshould we doubt Or fear ? we have lived well. For ever more We must bewell. The cypress cannot daunt, Nor the acacia thrill ; we are contentTo wonder in the shadowy groves, to haunt The dark delight of our own element; Or -- could we send a messenger -- to tell Our brothers of the happinessof Hell !

Are not the poppy-fields one snowy flame ? Come, let uswander hand in hand therein, Straining with joyous juice our lips of shame,Draining their bitter draught of sterile sin ! Are not the eyes of sleepalready dull, The lashes drooping over their desire ? Are not the godsawaiting to annul With Lethe the last flicker of the fire ?
Ay, let us kiss, my darling ; let us twitch For the lasttime the flesh against the flesh, Before the coming of the lovely witchThat shall excite our sleepy souls afresh, Anointing us with subtle drugsand suave, Fit for the grave, for love beyond the grave !

For the last time, my Lola ! Still the name Fills me withmusic, echoing afar Faint, like the rapture of some ghostly flame Rejoicingin some lone secreted star Beyond the visible heaven. Come to me ! Comecloser ! Is not this as close as death ? Are we not one to all eternityJewelled with joy ? Mix me your subtle breath Into the words well-knownand never worn, Into the kiss well-kissed and never tired, Into the lovewell-loved and not forlorn, The love beyond all that ever was desired ?Ay! all the cloudy must of life is strained To clearer liquor that oursouls attained.

XII

How the yahoos will rage and rave about Our sloughs !" Appalling double suicide ! " 'Orrible detiles ". In the world withoutWe never yet consented to abide. What should we care, within this caveof bliss, This ocean of content, wherein we dive And play like dolphins,for the horrid hiss Of blow-flies ? Nay, they never were
alive ! O the sweet sleep that fastens on these brows! O the enchauntment of this dreamy god, My mystic sister, my mellificspouse, That shepherds us with his hermetic rod Into the flowery foldsof love and sleep Where we have strayed -- O never yet so deep !

XIII

Lola, dear Lola, how the stillness grows ! How drowsyis the world, that folds her wings Over us, folding like a sunset roseHer crimson raptures to the night of things! How all the voices and thevisions fail As we pass through into the silent hall Beyond the vapoursand beyond the veil, Beyond the Nothing as beyond the All !
Ah ! then, our voice must also fail in this ; Our symbolsare but shadows in the sun; Love's self springs from the shadow of thekiss ; Our bliss ! O, that was hardly half begun ! We fight the Fate aswe have fought the foemen. The poison takes us. -- {Chi-chi-iota-rho-epsilon-tau-epsilon Nu-iota-chi-omega-mu- epsilon-nu}

XIV

Farewell ! O passionate world of changeful hours ! Come,Lola, let us sleep ! Elysian groves Await us and the beatific bowers WhereLove is ours at last -- as we were Love's. Come, with our mouths stillkissing, with our limbs Still twined, relax the ecstasy ! pass by To theabyss of night where no star swims ! On to the
end beyond the prophecy ! Ah Lola mine ! " No happy endis this " -- I love you -- ah ! you love me -- you love me ! For we havepassed beyond imagined bliss Into the kingdom of reality, Where we arecrowned with flowers -- yet closer creep ! Sleep, Lola, now ! I love you-- sleep -- ah, sleep !

Notes

THE AUGUR

I. 6. They. -- The Fates or Moirae.

III. 11. The dog-faced god. -- Anubis, the Threshold-Guardianof the 'Gods' of Egypt. Mantic means prophetic.

VI. 14. Child. -- The unhappy girl was at this time but17 years old.

VIII. 5. Justine. -- The virtuous but victimized heroineof the infamous novel of the Marquis de Sade.

XI. 6. Sabbath. -- Consult Payne Knight : 'Essays on theworship of Priapus', Eliphas Levi : ' Dogme et rituel de la haute Magie'and others.

XIII. 12. 13. Sigil. -- Sign-manual.

THE ALCHEMIST

I. 8. Wolfish queens. -- Thus these wicked wretches dareto speak of their kind and godly relations.

II. 11. Blind Worms -- pious swine. -- The poor servantsof God! Ah, well ! we have our comfort in Him; like Our Blessed Lord, wecan forgive. It is for our loving Lord to set His foot upon the necks ofour enemies, and to cast them out into the blackness of darkness for ever.

V. 12. 13. This is quite unintelligible to me.

XI. I think this is what is called Echolalia, a sure signof 'degeneracy'; or, as I prefer to think, a wickedness which has gone,dreadful as it sounds to write, beyond the Infinite Mercy of God. "I willsend them strong delusion."

XIII. 9. Oriflamme. -- How obscene is all this symbolism!

THE HERMIT

IV. 7. Myrrh -- Musk. -- The Perfumes of Sorrow and ofLust. Many prostitutes scent themselves strongly with musk, the betterto allure their unhappy victims.

VI. 8. Maid. -- Proserpine, or Hecate. I think the latter,as Proserpine became wife of Hades.

VII. This disgusting sonnet seems to refer to the wickedmagical practice of travelling by the astral double.

IX. Cannabis. -- Indian hemp, a drug producing maniacalintoxication.

X. 12. Verlaine ! Zola !. -- These are the vampires thatsuck out the virtue from our young people, the foreign corrupters of ourpurer manners !

XII. 7. Attis - Abelard. -- 'Thirst' here clearly meansunhallowed lust, since Attis and Abelard were both mutilated persons.

XIV. 13. 14. What Mad megalomania !

THE THAUMATURGE

I. 1. Horrible blasphemy of this adaptation of Job totheir vile purposes !

IV. 14. Ten bob. -- Vulgarity must always go with wickedness.Christ is not only a saving but a refining influence.

V.6. Wolf's tail. -- The Zodiacal Light, seen before dawn.

XIV. I suppose that such mixture of ribaldry, blasphemy,vulgarity, and obscenity, as this series of sonnets has never been known.But worse is to follow !

THE BLACK MASS

XI. 6. A reference to the Bacchae of Euripides.

THE ADEPT

I. 1. Ra. -- The 'Sun-God'

I. 5. Horus. -- The hawk, also a 'Sun-God'

II. 1. Apollonius of Tyana, the notorious pseudo-Christ,used to cover himself in wool in order to
meditate.

III. 7. Fellatrix. -- Only a Latin dictionary can unveilthe loathsome horror of this filthy word.

IV. q sqq. -- Impossible to comment on this shocking 'sinagainst the Holy Ghost' To compare the very Spirit or Breath of God to-- Oh, Lord, how long?

VI. 11. Basilisk. -- a fabulous creature that slew allthat it looked upon.

XI. 1. Lingam. -- The Hindu God(!) -- the male organ ofgeneration.

2. Yoni -- Its feminine equivalent. That the poor Hindusshould worship these shameful things ! And we? Oh how poor and inadequateis all our missionary effort! Let us send out more, and yet more, to ourperishing brothers !

5. Phaedra was repulsed by her son Hippolytus; Semiramisreceived the willing embraces of her son
Ninus.

XI. 1. Only Nothing is. -- There is much metaphysicalnonsense culled from German Atheistic philosophy, in these poems. A wickedphilosopher is far more dangerous than a mere voluptuary.

10. Doomisday. -- An affected archaism for the day ofJudgement. How can the writer dare to speak of this great day, on whichhe shall be damned for ever? "For he that believeth not is condemned already."

XII. 6. Mother. -- Nature. How true would be these strikingwords, if only for " the love-taught magus, the hermaphrodite " with allits superstition, blasphemy, and obscenity, one were to write "The Christ-savedsinner, brought into the light". !

XV. 10. The arcanum in the adytum. -- More classical affectationfor " the secret thing in the holy place".

THE VAMPIRE

I. 8. Savonarola. -- An ascetic Florentine doctor.

V. 1-6. For a good modern account of vampires and theirhabits, consult Mr Bram Stoker's Dracula

IX. 3. Kriss. -- The Malayan dagger.

4. Runs amok. -- Maddened by drink, these wretches runwildly through the streets, slaying all they meet until they themselvesare slain. Only the gospel of Christ can save such.

8. Yataghan. -- The Afghan sword.

XII. 12. The writer is evidently thinking of the " Bessemerconverter ".

XIII. 1. " The comedy is finished ".

5-7. A reference to Hamlet and the Players.

10. 11. Reference to Keats' Belle Dame sans Merci.

XIV. 10. Blood-bought bastards -- Christians ! O Saviour!what didst Thou come to save ?

6. Quoted from Arnold's Song Celestial.

7. 8. Quoted from a magical Coptic papyrus.

THE INITIATION

III. This shocking sonnet awakes pity and disgust in equalproportions. If even then they had only turned to the " Great Physician! " But no ! " God hardened Pharaohs heart ".

IV. 14. Alas ! no doubt that the reference is to our blessedLord and Master, The barren fig-tree has been no doubt a stumbling-blockto many weak souls. But the fig tree has here a deeper signification inits reference to certain loathsome forms of disease, and it is a symbolof lust. See Rosenbaum's " Plague of Lust "

V. 1. Swollen neck. -- A superstition of the ancientswas that the neck swelled on the bridal night, and virginity was testedby the proportion of the skull and the neck. See Beverland " Draped Virginity".

VI. Poor, poor deluded victims of Satan ! If they onlyknew the holy joy of even the least of Jesu's lambs!

VII. 13. Bull's blood. -- Supposed to be a poison by theancients. Thus Themistocles is said to have died.

IX. 9. Cypress -- Symbol of death.

10. Acacia -- Symbol of resurrection.

X. 1. The poppy-fields. -- They killed themselves withlaudanum.

XII. 1. Yahoos. -- See Swift's Voyage to Laputa. It isto be feared that the mad Dean intended to satirize mankind, the race forwhich the Lord of Glory died !

XIII. {Chi-chi-iota-rho-epsilon-tau-epsilon Nu-iota- chi-omega-mu-epsilon-nu}Rejoice, we conquer. It is very extraordinary how Satan's blindness andfury possess them to the very end. Even as they died, maybe one ferventcry of repentance to the dear Saviour of all men would have been heard,and the gates of
Paradise swung open as Satan, cheated of his prey, sankyelling into the Pit. But alas ! there is no such word: nothing but a paganEpicureanism even in the jaws of death.

A Prayer

Merciful and loving Father, almighty God, grant unto usThy humble servants and ministers a double portion of Thy Spirit that oureyes may be opened to the wickedness of them that love Thee not, that byThy grace our ministrations may be used to bring them out of darkness intoLight, by the virtue of our crucified Lord,
risen and ascended. Thine only-begotten Son, in Whosename we ask this Thy blessing. For Jesus Christ's sake, Amen.

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