Collected Works (Vol. III)

88 GARGOYLES A FRAGMENT! In the midst of the desert of Libya, on a mound of sand, lieth a young man alone and naked. Nightfall. Nicut the voluptuous, night the chaste Spreads her dark limbs, a vaulted splendour, Above the intolerable waste. Night the august one, night the tender (Jueens it and brides it unto me. I am the soul serenely free ; I dare to seek the austere ordeal That drags the hoodwink of the Real Back from the Maker’s livid eyes Lustred with hate. At noon I came Blind in the desert, saw the sun Leap o’er the edge, a fury of flame Shouting for rapture over his prize, The maiden body of earth. Outrun The violent rays; the dawn is dashed In one swift moment into dust. Long lies the Jand with sunlight splashed, Brutally violate to his lust. Alone and naked I watched through The appalling hours of noon ; I parched ; I blistered: all the ghastly crew Of mind’s sick horror mocked me; arched The flaming vault of hell and pressed Its passionate murder in my breast. Seven times I strove to slay me: filled My mouth with sand to choke my breath. In vain! No loftier purpose willed The iron miracle of death. So, blind and strangled, I survive. So, with my skin a single scar, I hail the night, the night alive With Hathor for the evening star. O beauty! See me broken, burned Lone on the languorous Lybian plain! Is there one lesson to be learned From this my voluntary pain, My dread initiation, long Desired and long deferred? Is he the secret of the song, Portent of triumph or disaster The Master— - 1 Intended as the prologue to a history of an initiate in Semiedramatic form, The night wind breathes upon the air Still shimmering from the fearful heat ? Can I still trust who have learned to dare? All others I have known effete, Bid them await. Who knows to-day The purpose of the dread essay? Surely I, earlier, further fared ! I knew the deed that closes clay, Division’s sword by sense unbared, A living lie. The deep delusion ! Dividuality—confusion ! These I unmasked of yore. To-day The hideous blue, the hideous gold Of sky and sand their wrath unrolled, Their agony and hate proclaimed. Is it that night shall kiss to peace The furious carnival that flamed Its ruinous ardour from the sun ! Nay, let all light, all things, but cease ! Sense is the seal of double rule. The million oracles that run Out of the mouth of God the fool Are not myself. To nothing turn ! To nothing look! Then, then !—discern Nothing, that one may one remain. So I am paid the horrible pain That these my brothers ordered me. I look upon their brows—I see Signs many and deep of torture past 3 A star, yon Star, true peace at last. (There approacheth an aged man, riding upon an ass, with a led ass, and a Nubian servant.) The Adept. In the name of God, the One, the Great, Merciful and compassionate, Acclaim the perfect period Of ordeal past! The Neophjte. There is no God! a. Kise! in the name of obscure Fate, Ruthless and uncompassionate. NV. Of endless life, of toil and woe I am the burned and branded foe. I came this torture to endure That I might make my freedom sure. ij «df. No soul is free.