Collected Works (Vol. I)

168 THE TEMPLE OF THE HOLY GHOST Close we To trample and defile: are come; before us is the Cross the bones shall shudder Of many a self-slain darling. I'rom_ the moss Swamp-adders greet us. IIow the dancers toss The frantic limb, the unreluctant udder ! See, how their frenzy peoples all the ground ! Strange demon-shapes take up the unholy measure, Strange beast and worm and crab: couth sound Of the unheard-of kisses: the profound Gasps of the maniac, the devouring pleasure! the un- A curse of God is on them !—ha ! the curse, The curse that locks them in obscene em- braces ! See how love mocks the melancholy hearse Dressed as an altar: is she nun or nurse, The priestess chosen of the half-formed faces ? An abbess, child of the unsullied eyes ! Why? To blaspheme! Sweet child, dance grows madder. O I am faint with pleasure! Ah! be wise; One measure more, and then—the sacrifice? What victim? Guess—a woman or an adder? the Nay, fear not, baby! In your mother’s hand . You must be safe? that bare you !. Who comes toward us? Why, our God, the Grand ! You trust the womb Our Baphomet!' Come, baby, to the band : Our God may kiss you—yes, he will not spare you ! 1 Supposed to be the abbreviation of the bi gee: Order spelt backwards: Tem. o. h. p. ab. =Templi omnium hominum pacis pater (Heb. Ab, father). Some assert the word to be really a synthesis of a great body of secret doctrine, discoverable by any one who knows the Qabalistic meaning of each letter. Fall down, my baby ; worship him with me. There, go; I give you to his monster kisses ! Take her, my God, my God, my infamy, My love, my master! take the fruit of me! — Shrieks every soul and every demon hisses ! Out ! out ! the ghastly torches of the feast ! Let darkness hide us and the night discover The shameless mysteries of God grown beast, The nameless blasphemy, the sliméd East— Sin incarnatéd with a leprous lover ! ‘‘tfoc est enim” 14—the victim! ah! my womb, My womb has borne the victin! Now I queen it To-night upon the damned—thy love makes room, My goat-head godhead, for my hecatomb ! Iam thy mistress, and thy slaves have seen it ! Even as thy cold devouring kisses roll Over my corpse; I hear its death-cry thrill me! Thine !—O my God! I render thee the whole, My broken body and my accurséd soul ! Come, come, come, come! Ah! conquer me and kill me ! THE BRIDEGROOM. No passion stirs the cool white throat of her ; No living glory fills the deep dead eyes ; No sleep that breaks her Southern indolence ; Not all the breezes out of heaven, that stir The sleepy wells and woodlands, bid her rise 3 Nor all a godhead’s amorous violence. _She is at peace ; we will go hence. 1 ** Hoc est enim corpus meum,” the words used in the Mass at the elevation of the Host.