AIV
Now then the fickle song hath changed and shifted
Round from the dirge to the primordial paean.
Lola! my Lola! let our voices lifted
Proclaim to all the Masters of the Aeon :
We love each other! let them meditate
Awhile on that glad cry, and you will see
How they consult, and smile, and hint to fate
That none can mar so holy a destiny.
We love each other! loud and glad ; let heaven
zind all the gods be deafened! Sing, O sing!
We love each other! through the storm-cloud riven
Let the wild anthem of our triumph ring!
Hark! the glad chorus as we drag the stars
In chains behind our mad colossal cars !
— 48
—
IV
The Thaumaturge