THE OLD
BOTTLE
157
The Lord's Day.
The foolish
bells with
their discordant
clang
Summon
the harlot -ridden
Hell to pray :
The vicar's
snout is tuned ; the curates
bray
Long gabbled
lessons , and their noisy twang
Fills the foul worshippers
with
hate ; the fang
Of boredom
crushes
out the holy day ,
Where whore
and jobber
sit
and gloom
,
grown grey
For hating
of
each other
;
the hours
hang
.'
And the pen
of
Crowley like that
of
Saladin
,
Swin
burne
,
and
Shelley
,
is
but
another
douche
of
cold
water
to
wake the frowsy sleepers
of
the night
,
and
wash
from their gluey eyes the nightmare
of
Christian
Supremacy
.
In
the earlier poems
of
Crowley
,
we find not only
a
reverential
handling
of
the Christ idea
,
but
an
almost
orthodox adoration for the Christ Himself
.
In the last
two verses
of
“
Aceldama
"
this
is
strongly brought
out
.
“
Thy
love
will
stand
while
ocean
winds
en
dure
";
and
again
,
“
Here
I
abandon
all
myself
to
thee
.”
?
In
“
Songs
of
the Spirit
”
we find this venera
tion
acutely
portrayed
,
and the Christ
as
depicted
in
“
The Goad
”
closely
resembles
the one
as
described
in
“
The Farewell
of
Paracelsus
to
Aprile
.”
Here
is
a
passage from each
:
I
contemplate
the wound
Stabbed
in
the flanks
of
my dear silver Christ
.
He hangs
in
anguish
there
;
the crown
of
thorns
Pierces
that palest brow
;
the nails drip blood
;
There
is
the wound
;
no
Mary
by
Him mourns
,
There
is
no John beside the cruel wood
;
I
am alone
to
kiss
the silver
lips
;
I
rend my clothing for the temple veil
;
?
The Temple
of
the Holy Ghost
,
vol
.
I,
p
.
202
.
2
Aceldama
,
vol
.
i,
p
.
6.