The Soul of Osiris

THE GATE OF THE SANCTUARY. 73 I draw toward. Oh, suddenly I see The treason-pledge, the royal prostitute. One moment, and I should have passed beyond Linked unto Spirit by the fourfold bond. Not dead to earth, but living as divine, A priest, a king, an oracle, a shrine, A saviour ! Yet my misty spirit conned The secret murmur : “ Gereth, I am thine ! ” I must have listened to the voice of hell. The earthly horror wove its serpent spell Against the Beauty of the World : I heard Desolate voices cry the doleful word “ Unready ! ” All the soul invisible Of that vast desert echoed, and concurred. The voices died in mystery away. I passed, confounded, lifeless as the clay, Somewhere I knew not. Many a dismal league Of various terror wove me its intrigue, And many a demon daunted : day by day Death dogged despair, and misery fatigue. Behold ! I came with haggard mien again Into the hall, and mingled with the train, A corpse amid the dancers. Then the king Saw me, and knew me—and he knew the ring ! He did not ask me how I sped : disdain Curled his old lips : he said one bitter thing.