Then,
scorpion-stunj^
of its own terrible tang,
Burnt of its own fire, soiled of its own stain,
Falls conquered as a bird
Bolt-stricken
through the brain.
To the resounding plain
:
The double word,
The see-saw
of all misery —begin
The alluring
mysteries of lust and sin
;
Ends their delight !— and are they clear to sight ?
Or mixed with death,
compact of night ?
Begin — the bitter tears of impotence.
The sad permuted sense
Of this despair—what would you
?
and renew
The long soft warfare—the enchanted arms.
The silken body's charms.
The lips that murmur and the breasts
that sting ;
The eyes that sink so deep
Beyond
the steeps and avenues of sleep,
And of their wonder bring
No ultimation
from the halls of night,
The slippery
staircase,
and the Fatal
Throne,
The Evil House,
the Fugitive of Light,
The great Unluminous,
the Formless
One!
Stoop not !
Beneath,
a precipice
is set.
The Seven Steps.
Stoop
not, forget
Never
the splendid Image, and
the realm
Where
lightnings
overwhelm
iiS