Thelema ScholarTHE ALEISTER CROWLEY COLLECTION
← Collected Works (Vol. III)
1907 · CLOSE READING

Collected Works (Vol. III)

Collected Works (Vol. III) (1907), PDF p. 184

Original page

Enlarge ↗
Original scan of Collected Works (Vol. III), PDF page 184

Highlights use the original PDF text layer. OCR-only matches may not be visible on the scan.

Transcription

Download text ↓
raw extractionoriginal embedded textReview: unreviewed
178 ORPHEUS I step to the river. The lyre-strings quiver ; The limbs of me shudder; So cold is the mist ; So dark is the stream ; So fearful the boat ; So horrid the rudder ; So black is the tryst ; So frightful the beam ; So fearing to float ; The steersman so dread, The shadowy shape of a ghost that guides the bark of the dead! Aged and foul, His locks wreathe about him. Horrid his scowl ! Haggard his soul ! My songs control While they fear him and doubt him. I step in the boat, And the waters ache, And the old boards shake. I shall hardly float, So heavy the soul Of a living man On those waters that roll Nine times around The fatal ground; Yet still to my singing we move on the river Tartarean. So darker and colder The stream as we float: Blacker and bleaker, The mist on the river ! Stronger the shoulder Impels the sad boat. Sadder and weaker Shudder and quiver The notes of the lyre. Quenched is my fire In the fog of the air. Dim my desire Cuts through the snare. The cold confounds me ; The mist surrounds me; Life trembles and lowers ; Earth fades from miy life. The love of my wife, The light of the flowers, Earth’s beautiful bowers. Pass, and are not. I am awed by the soul of the place, the hope- less, the desolate spot. Here is the wharf Wearily standing, Misshapen and dwarf, Well fit for such landing ! Darker the bloom Of the night-flowers glows, Shadowing the tomb, The indicible woes. Dark and unlovely the cypress still grows Deformed and blistered, Stunted and blackened, Where the dead gleams glistered, The dusk-lights slackened. Such is the shore Who reacheth may never Return o’er the river ! Here pace evermore The terrible ghosts Malignant of men, Whose airless hosts In wars unjust Went down to the den ; Whose fury and lust Turned poison or steel On their own bad lives. Here whirls the grim wheel Where the dead soul strives Ever to climb To the iron nave, Find Space and Time, Or a God to save, Or a way o’er the wave. The Fate contrives That he never thrives. Revolving anon, The gleam is gone, And the shadowy smile
Page provenance & review flags

Stable page ID: 213a7871095c12b173519869:p00184

Line breaks are preserved. Reading order and OCR accuracy may need review.

Printed page label has not been verified.

  • No automated review flags. This does not establish transcription accuracy.