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THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
Quivers before him, whose vast eyebrows bend, 
A million comets :  for his locks extend 
A million flashing terrors :  on his breast 
He bears a mightier cuirass :  for his vest 
All heaven blazes :  for his brows a crown 
Roars into the abyss :  his mighty frown 
Quells many an universe and many an age— 
Yea, many eternities !  His nostrils rage 
With fire and fury, and his feet are shod 
With all the splendours of the avenging God. 
I see him and I tremble !  But my hand 
Still flings its gesture of supreme command 
Upwards ;  my voice still dares to tongue the word 
That hell and chaos and destruction heard 
And ruined, shrieking !  yea, my strong voice rolls, 
That martyr-cry of many slaughtered souls, 
Utterly potent both to bless and ban— 
I, I command thee in the name of Man ! 
He trembled then.  And far in thunder rolled 
Through countless ages, through the infinite gold 
Beyond existence, grew that master-sound 
Into the rent and agonized profound, 
Till even the Highest heard me :  and He said, 
As one who speaks alone among men dead : 
“ Behold, he rules as I the abyss of flame. 
For lo !  he knoweth, and hath said, My Name ! ”