THE TEMPLE OF SOLOMON THE KING
OLYMPAS.
MARSYAS.
OLYMPAS.
MARSYAS.
OLYMPAS.
To use the sacred oil of work ?
Not from the valley shalt thou test
The eggs that line the eagle’s nest!
Climb, with thy life at stake, the ice,
The sheer wall of the precipice!
Master the cornice, gain the breach,
And learn what next the ridge can teach!
Yet—not the ridge itself may speak
The secret of the final peak.
All ridges join at least.
Admitted,
O thou astute and subtle-witted |
Yet one—loose, jagged, clad in mist!
Another—firm, smooth, loved and kissed
By the soft sun! Our order hath
This secret of the solar path,
Even as our Lord the Beast hath won
The mystic Number of the Sun.
These secrets are too high for me.
Nay, little brother! Come and see!
Neither by faith nor fear nor awe
Approach the doctrine of the Law!
Truth, Courage, Love, shall win the bout,
And those three others be cast out.
Lead me, Master, by the hand
Gently to this gracious land!
Let me drink the doctrine in,
An all-healing medicine !
Let me rise, correct and firm,
Steady striding to the term,
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