THE TEMPLE OF SOLOMON THE KING
OLYMPAS.
MARSYAS.
OLYMPAS.
MARSYAS.
Master, while yet the glory clings
Declare this mystery magical |
I am yet borne on those blue wings
Into the Essence of the All.
Now, now I stand on earth again,
Though, blazing through each nerve and vein,
The light yet holds its choral course,
Filling my frame with fiery force
Like God’s. Now hear the Apocalypse
New-fledged on these reluctant lips !
I tremble like an aspen, quiver
Like light upon a rainy river !
Do what thou wilt! is the sole word
Of law that my attainment heard.
Arise, and lay thine hand on God!
Arise, and set a period
Unto Restriction! That is sin:
To hold thine holy spirit in!
O thou that chafest at thy bars,
Invoke Nuit beneath her stars
With a pure heart (Her incense burned
Of gums and woods, in gold inurned),
And let the serpent flame therein
A little, and thy soul shall win
To lie within her bosom. Lo!
Thou wouldst give all—and she cries: No!
Take all, and take me! Gather spice
And virgins and great pearls of price|
Worship me in a single robe,
Crowned richly! Girdle of the globe,
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