ACELDAMA 3
Vili.
This is release, is freedom, is desire ;
This is the one hope that a man may gain ;
This is the lasting ecstasy of pain
That fools reject, the dread, the searching
fire
That quivers in the marrow, that in vain
Burns secretly
The unconsuméd bush where God
privily.
lurks
IX.
This was a dream—and how may I attain?
How make myself a worthy acolyte?
How from my body shall my soul take
flight,
Being constrained in this devouring chain
Ofselfishness? Tow purge the spirit quite
Of gross desires
That eat into the heart with their corrupting
fires ?
Old Buddha gave command ; Jehovah spake ;
Strange distant gods that are not dead to-
day
Added their voices ; ITeaven’s desart way
Man wins not but by sorrow—let him break
The golden image with the feet of clay !!
Let him despise
That earthen vessel which the potter marred 2
—and rise!
XI.
As life burns strong, the spirit’s flame grows
dull ;
The ruddy-cheeked sea-breezes shame its
spark ;
Wan rainy winds of autumn on the dark
Leafless and purple moors, that rage and Tull
With a damned soul’s despair, these leave
their mark,
Their brand of fire
That burns the dross, that wings the heart to
its desire.
Vp de Daniel i.
2 Oriental symbol for the body.
XII.
No prostitution may be shunned by him
Who would achieve this Fleaven.
satyr-song,
No maniac dance shall ply so fast the thong
Of lust’s imagining perversely dim
That no man’s spirit may keep pace, so
strong
No
Its pang must pierce}
Nor all the pains of hell may be one tithe as
fierce.
XIII.
All degradation, all sheer infamy,
Thou shalt endure. Thy head beneath the
mire
And dung of worthless women shall desire
As in some hateful dream, at last to lie;
Woman must trample thee till thou respire
That deadliest fume 31
The vilest worms must craw], the loathliest
vampires gloom.*
XIV.
Thou must breathe in all poisons; for thy
meat,
Poison; for drink, still poison; for thy
kiss,
A serpent’s lips! An agony is this
That sweats out venom ; thy clenched hands,
thy feet
Ooze blood, thine eyes weep bload; thine
anguish is
More keen than death.
At last --there is no deeper vault of hell
héneath !
XV.
Then thine abasement brineeth back the
sheaves
Of golden corn of exaltation,
Kipencd and sweetened by the very sun
' The conerete expression of the horror of
the individual,
2 Morbid imaginations, which ever torment
the traveller upon the path of asceticism,