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ACELDAMA. DARK night, red night. This lupanar Has rosy flames that dip, that shake, Faint phantoms that disturb the lake Of magic mirror-land. A star Like to a beryl, with a flake Of olive light Struck through is dull profound, is steadfast in the night. 1 1
…ur diverse sweet dews exude to stain With chaste foul fervour the cold canopy ? Proud Reason’s sheath He cast away, the sword of Madness flames beneath ! 2 4
XI. As life burns strong, the spirit’s flames 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 lull 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. XII. No prostitution may be shunned by him Who would achieve this Heaven. No 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 Its pang must…