118 THE RITES OF ELEUSIS whether a snake or a sun In his horoscope Heaven hath cast, It is nothing; every one Shall win to the moon at last, The mage has wrought by his art A billion shapes in the sun. Look through to the heart of his heart, And the many are shapes of one! An end to the art of the mage, And the cold grey blank of the prison An end to the adamant age! The ambrosial moon is arisen. I have bought a lily-white goat For the price ofa crown of thorns, A collar of gold for its throat, A scarlet bow for its horns; I have bought a, lark in the lift For the price of a butt of sherry : With these, and God {or a, gift, It needs no wine to be merry! I have bought for 3 wafer of bread A garden of poppies and clover; For a water bitter and dead, A foam of fire flowing overt From the Lamb and his prison {are And the Owl’s blind stupor, arise! Be ye wise, and strong, and fair, And the nectar afloat in your eyes! Arise, Ο ambrosial moon, By the strong immemorial spell, By the subtle veridica! rune That is mighty in heaven and hell ! Drip thy mystical dews On the tongues of the tender fauns, In the shade of initiate yews, Remote from the desert dawns!