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…rished from below ! MORTADELLO. Why did you spare my life just now ? MONICA. Why, first of all, I want to be your wife. MORTADELLO. Dear God forbid ! MONICA. To enthrall You, body and soul, to win the prize my rival won. Do you think there is a sin I would have left undone ?
…e Names and Letters of the Great Southern Quadrangle, Spirits of Fire, adore your Creator! [Elevate censen] In the three Secret names of God, OIP TEAA PDOCE, that are borne upon the banners of the South, Spirits of Fire, adore your Creator! [Lower and lift censer.] In the Name of EDELPERNA, great King of the South, Spirits of Fire, adore your Creator! In the Name of IHVH TzBAVTh, I declare that the Spirits of Fire have been duly invoked. The Knock. 333—1—333- THE SIXTH KEY GAHE sa-div 6311153 em, micalazoda Pil—zodinu, sobam El haraji mir babal…
…e Names and Letters of the Great Southern Quadrangle, Spirits of Fire, adore your Creator! [Elevate censen] In the three Secret names of God, OIP TEAA PDOCE, that are borne upon the banners of the South, Spirits of Fire, adore your Creator! [Lower and lift censer.] In the Name of EDELPERNA, great King of the South, Spirits of Fire, adore your Creator! In the Name of IHVH TzBAVTh, I declare that the Spirits of Fire have been duly invoked. The Knock. 333—1—333- THE SIXTH KEY GAHE sa-div 6311153 em, micalazoda Pil—zodinu, sobam El haraji mir babal…
…shes. Leviathan, how subtle is thy path ! CHORUS. Not now may the hour of gladness fade, The wheel of our fate spins bright and beaming. God has fashioned a sun from shade. Mercy and joy in one tide are streaming. Fortune is powerless, to all good seeming. Fate is stricken, and flees afraid. JARED. Bring me the sackcloth and the ashes now ! ELEAZAR, Behold ! the crown of all our maiden wreath, Adulah, white and lissome, with the flames Of dawn forth blushing through her flower- crowned hair. CHORUS. Behold a virgin to the Lord ! Behold a maiden…
…1 Circumcision, medically commendable, is both ridiculous and obscene if considered asa religious rite. Gen, xvil. 9-14. Part ITI, WOULD God that I were dead! My punishment I cannot bear. There is a deep corrosive pain Invades my being everywhere. Sprung from a seed too small to see, A monster spawns and strangles me. Like Cain, Tis scarce a week! In power and pride I rode in state about the city ; Took pleasure in the eager ride, Saw grief, took pleasure in my pity ; Saw joy, took pleasure in the seeing, And the full rapture of well-being. Wou…
…tal breath, and smites us down, And desecrates the crown. For we have sinned against thee, and our souls Scathe and devour as coals, And God is wroth because of thee, to break The spirit of our pride, our lips to make Reverent toward thee, as of men ashamed. And now we pray thee for our children’s sake, And thine own pity’s sake, to come untamed, And furiously to ride against our foes, And be our leader, till one sanguine rose Spread from thy standard awful leaves of blood, And thy swords pour their long insatiate flood Through ranks of many de…
…res—wash them in the flood Of murder ! This is power over men And angels. I will lift the twisted rod, And make my power as the power of God ! I made my beauty as it was before. I learned strange secrets ; by my love and skill I bent creation to my wanded will. I tuned the stars, I bound the bitter shore Beyond the Pleiads : until the Universe Moved at my mantra : Heaven and Hell obeyed ; Creation at my orders stayed or swayed. “ Take back,” I cried, “ the mockery of a curse ! ”
…horrid hiss Of blow-flies ? Nay, they never were alive! O the sweet sleep that fastens on these brows! O the enchauntment of this dreamy god, My mystic sister, my mellific spouse, That shepherds us with his hermetic rod Into the flowery folds of love and sleep Where we have strayed -— O never yetsodeep ! —— 128 — XIII Lola, dear Lola, how the stillness grows ! How drowsy is the world, that folds her wings Over us, folding like a sunset rose Her crimson raptures to the night of things ! How all the voices and the visions fail As we pass through …
He, my prophet, hath chosen, knowing the law of the fortress, and the great mystery of the House of God. All these old letters of my Book are aright ; but ï is not the Star. This also is secret; my prophet shall reveal it to the wise. 58. I give unimaginable joys on earth: cer- tainty, not faith, While in life, upon death; peace unalterable, rest, ecstasy; nor do I demand aught in sacrifice. 59. My incense is of resinous woods and gums; and there is no blood therein: because of my hair the trees of Eternity. 60. My number is II, as all their num…
…fter midnight gone ; Or thou, that shivered all night long for fear The sun delivered no dawn upon the meer ? More, canst thou tell what god may watch thy beacon, Feed it from hell or heaven, ere it weaken, From some anointed sceptre, fiery dew For this appointed, that my soul win through ? Nay ! all we know not anything. Yet raise, Though we must throw our hearts to feed its blaze, The aspiring flame, the passionate glow, the bloom Whose root is shame, whose fruit the trackless tomb. I wail I know not, louder and livelier Who laugh, and go …
…mory Of the love born by a sunlit sea— Through the gray dusk a faint pink glows, The aureole of a flower that blows In the garden of the gods: too long I linger lost in sense of song; Too long I stay, too late, too late I wander by the hidden gate Of the garden, and the night-wind blows Around me still, ah, Rose, my Rose! From thee the wind-borne breezes float: From thee! the secret word, the note On the lips of a dying god, pierced through By the spear of Dawn. Is Dawn still new, Now thou art faded in the gloom ? Now thou art lost in death and…
…mory Of the love born by a sunlit sea— Through the gray dusk a faint pink glows, The aureole of a flower that blows In the garden of the gods: too long I linger lost in sense of song; Too long I stay, too late, too late I wander by the hidden gate Of the garden, and the night-wind blows Around me still, ah, Rose, my Rose! From thee the wind-borne breezes float: From thee! the secret word, the note On the lips of a dying god, pierced through By the spear of Dawn. Is Dawn still new, Now thou art faded in the gloom ? Now thou art lost in death and…
…her and looked so dear and deep Into her eyes, the wells and woods of sleep, And took the violet from his breast, and stood A glad young god within the golden wood. He kissed the blossom, and bent very low, And put it to her lips-—and even so His lips were set on them ; the flower sighed | For deep delight, and in the long kiss died. Years fled and faded, yet a flower was seen Gracious and comely in its nest of green, And tender hands would water it and say: ‘*( happy sister, she that went away ! “For she brought back my lover to my heart, And …
…em should be enough To glut our misery and our love. Renounce VIII. Why must despair to madness drive The myriad fools that fear to die? God’s but a fervid phantom drawn Out of the hasty-ordered hive Of thoughts that battle agony In the melancholy hours of dawn. When vital force at lowest ebbs Anzemic nerves weave frailest webs. OF LIFE 85 IX. So, be content! Should science cleave The veil of things and show us peace Well :—but by wild imagining Think not a golden robe to weave ! Such moulder. By fantastic case Ye come not well to anything, Wor…
…for sheer love of sin, whose mere lust of perversion is so intense that it seems to absorb every other emotion and interest. Never since God woke light from chaos has such a tragedy been unrolled before men, step after step toward the lake of Fire ! At his house all his writings were seized, and, it is believed, destroyed. The single most fortunate exception is that of a superbly jewelled writing-case,
…ars I stride toward the parapet. My ears Catch his low call ; and now a song complains. The bridge is bleeding and the river hears. Ah ! God ! I cannot live for pity deep Of that heart-quelling chant—I could not sleep Ever again to think of it. I close My hearing with my fingers. Gently goes A quivering foot above them as they weep— I weep, I also, as the river flows. Slowly the bridge subsides, and I am flung Deep in the tears and terrors never sung. I swim with sorrow bursting at my breast. Yet I am cleansed, and find some little rest. Still …
…essation ” ; that whose self we guess not. Thus the wise most mystically interpret Into wisdom the worst folly spoken By the mortal of a god deluded. So, the last wise word rejected, Pentheus Cries, “ ἀγ ὡς ταχιστα, του χρονου δε σοι φθονω ”—“ Why waste we time in talking ? Let us now away unto the mountains ! ” So the wise, enlightened by compassion, Seeks that bliss for all the world of sorrow, Swears the bitter oath of Vajrapani : “ Ere the cycle rush to utter darkness Work I so that every living being Pass beyond this constant chain of caus…
…and I To-day, and Ι to—morrow, born Now and again, on high, on high Travelling on Dian’s naked horn ! I am the Soul that doth create The Gods, and all the Kin of Breath. I come from the sequestered state; My birth is from the House of Death [He uah/ames fo altar. Hail l ye twin hawks high pinnacled That watch upon the universe! Ye that the bier of God beheld! That bore it onwards, ministers Of peace within the House of Wrath, Servants of him that cometh forth At dawn with many-coloured lights, Mounting from underneath the North, The shrine of t…
…and I To-day, and Ι to—morrow, born Now and again, on high, on high Travelling on Dian’s naked horn ! I am the Soul that doth create The Gods, and all the Kin of Breath. I come from the sequestered state; My birth is from the House of Death [He uah/ames fo altar. Hail l ye twin hawks high pinnacled That watch upon the universe! Ye that the bier of God beheld! That bore it onwards, ministers Of peace within the House of Wrath, Servants of him that cometh forth At dawn with many-coloured lights, Mounting from underneath the North, The shrine of t…
…st a little space of sleep , to rest The fevered head and cool the aching eyes ; Sleep for a space , to fall upon the breast Of the dear God , that He may sympathize . Long has the day drawn out ; a bitter frost Sparkles along the streets ; the shipping heaves With the slow murmur of the sea , half lost In the last rustle of forgotten leaves . Over the bridges pass the throngs ; the sound , Deep and insistent , penetrates the mist 50