Konx Om Pax

THE STONE OF THE PHILOSOPHERS 95 bestial. We are fairly trapped. Open the window, some one, and remember that He is God alone, and that there is none other God than He! Right as usual, said the scholar. It’s a true story, though, in a way. I’ve seen the mask myself, and I believe it. THE GILT MASK IN Florence in the days of old there dwelt a craftsman pale and grim. The Devil entered into him, and fanned his soul with plumes of gold. He offered all he chose to ask. “ O snatch this itching soul away, So that thou animate my clay and finish me this magic mask l ” The Devil brought him graving tools; the first a ravening disease, The cold corrupting masterpiece of Christ the god of weeping fools! The second, bright as burning coal, a white and wanton wolf of sin Who had an icy flame within the ulcer that she called her soul. Long years he bent him to the task; he worked his torture and his lust Out of the horror of the dust into the horror of the mask. The mewing lecherous devils crept out of the strongholds of the hills, And filled their blood with noisome thrills before the work of the adept. The ghuls that gloat on corpses cold would gather, glutted with their meat, And give it dead man’s chops to eat, and dead man’s bones to rub the gold; While stinking goats and cats would come to link in infamies unheard; While beat the witches oiled and furred their buttocks on the devil’s drum.