92 
THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
Red blood shall dye thee robes of red, 
 Hell’s cries thy litany ! 
Thy mitre sits, divided strength, to end thy church 
and thee ! ” 
 
The third face spake and said : 
 “ Welcome, O Man, to Death ! 
Thy little span of life is sped, 
 Sighed out thy little breath. 
The worm that never dies is thine ;  the fire that 
lingereth ! ” 
 
“ Three voices has thy frame, 
 Their music is but one. 
Fool-demon, slave of night and shame, 
 That canst not see the sun ! 
I am the Lord thy God :  make thou homage and 
orison ! ” 
 
The wild heads sank in fear : 
 Then, troubled, to those eyes 
Remembrance crept of many a year, 
 Barred gates of Paradise. 
Again the Voice rolled in the deep, mingled with 
murmuring sighs : 
 
“ I mind me of the day 
 One came from Death to me ; 
His soul was weary of the day, 
 His look was melancholy ; 
He bade me open in the Name that binds Eternity.