The Soul of Osiris

128 THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. Nature is one with my distress. The flowers are dull, the stars are pale. I am the Soul of Nothingness. I cannot lift the golden veil. O Mother Isis, let thine eyes Behold my grief, and sympathise ! I cannot round the perfect wheel, Attain not to the fuller end. In part I love, in part I feel, Know, worship, will, and comprehend. O Mother Nephthys, fill me up Thine own perfection’s deadly cup ! My aspiration quails within me ; “ My heart is fixed,” in vain I cry ; The little loves and whispers win me : “ Eli, lama sabacthani ! ” O Chomse, moon-god, grant thy boon, The silver pathway of the moon ! Beyond the Glory of the Dawn, Beyond the Splendour of the Sun, Thy secret Spirit is withdrawn, The plumes of the Concealéd One. Amoun ! upon the Cross I cry, I am Osiris, even I ! O Thou ! the All, the many-named, The One in many manifest !