The Soul of Osiris

88 THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. THE NAME. ACRED, between the serpent fangs of Pain, Ringed by the vortex of the hurricane, Lurks the abyss of fate : the gloomy cave, Sullen as night, and sleepy as a wave When tempest lowers and dare not strike, gapes wide, Vomiting pestilence ; the deadly bride Of death, Despair, grins charnel-wise : the gate Of Hope clangs resonant : and starless Fate Glowers like a demon brooding over death. Monstrous and mute, the slow resurgent breath Spreads forth its poison : the pale child at play Coughs in his gutter ; the hard slave of day Groans once and dies : the sickly spouse can feel The cold touch kill the unborn child, and steal Up to her broken heart : the pale hours hang Like death upon the aged : the days clang Like prison portals on the folk of day. Yet for the children of the night they play Like fountains in the moonlight : for the few, The sorrowful, sweet faces of the dew, The laughter-loving daughters of the dawn, Whose moving feet make tremble all the lawn S