Collected Works (Vol. III)

26 WHY JESUS WEPT I the bright Deva! of the golden sphere ; I the swift spirit of the primal fire :— All theseI am, not will be. O blind ape! All these are shapeless ; thou art but a shape, A blind, bad-blooded bat! Ugh! Ugh! The snake Wriggling to death amid his burning brake Is wiser, holier, lordlier. Open, page Of the old Rabbi | * tell me of the mage; Of him who would; of him who dared and did ; Of him who feared and failed; of him who. fell ; One peéring .lightwards through a coffin-lid, One aching heavenwards—and achieving hell! O let me do and die as they !_ The wand, The lamp, the sword, come eager to my nand ;— Or, if I wander now upon the moor, An old red-haited witch will come, for sure, And teach me how the dragon deeds are done Or truck my spirit to the Evil One ; Or else,—I wot not what. I am drunk with will, Will toward some destiny most high, most holy ! Some of those glories sung with awful skill By the loud brabble of the monster Crowley, That poet of the muck-heap! Oh, enough ! ‘The wind is harsh and vital on the hills. Forth let me fare! I am other than the stuff His dreams are made of! Aye! I shall endure ! I am destined Lord of many magic wills. Another Rosencreutz another order Founds—to a better end than his, be sure! Away ! away, my lad! and o’er the border I shall get myself a buxom bride, And ride—ride—ride ! [He rises. Ride to the blacksmith at Gretna Green, Kiss a fair lady and find her a queen ! O a Queen, for certain! It is I that ride, Ride in my youth and pride 1 The Indian generic term for any good spirit. 2 Rabbi Schimeon, who first wrote down the Zohar, the most sacred book of the Qabalah. With a long sword girt to my waist, And a strawberry mare sweet-paced, And a long night with no moon, no star! I will plunder the traveller from afar ;— Aye ! and find him an ancient sage, . Learn all his wisdom, marry his daughter, Become a king and a mage, Lord of Fire, Earth, Air, and Water ! Ho! my horse, lads! Away! To the moor | Ho! there’s a fox i’ the hole, that’s sure. [Flings swaggering out of the room. SCENE IV. ANGELA, LaDy BAIRD (regarding herself in a mirror). I thank you, M. Davenport !! This smile Is worth a husband. Here, one touch of pink Completes a perfect picture—Are these eyes Dark eno’ to look love or sin, and large (O Atropine !?) to beam forth innocence ! Innocence, a grim jest for sixty years ! Nay, sixty-three ; I lie not to myself ; Else one sins lying ; thus is virtue mixed, A bubbling draught that soon lies still and flat ; While my great lust runs deep and dark, nor changes For all that time can do. What of this boy ? I knew his father ; the man feared me well For all his open laughter; would he were. x Alive! I dream one torture writhed about His heait he’ll miss in hell. I hated him. This boy of his I saw but yesterday Ride barehead by me like a madman would, Is strong and well-set—aye ! desirable. I would be better of his virgin lips :— [She puts her lips against the mirror. 1 A famous dentist in Paris, 2 The alkaloid of belladonna. It dilates the pupil, and is abused to this end by many foolish women.