THE HOLY OF HOLIES. 
127 
O Wisdom-crowned Ta-hu-ti, lend 
Thy magic :  let my light extend ! 
 
I cannot comprehend one truth. 
 My sight is biased, and my mind— 
One snake-skin thought is of its youth ; 
 Grows old, and casts the slough behind. 
O Themis, Lady of the plume, 
Shed thy twin godhead in the gloom ! 
 
How ugly is this life of mine ! 
 How slimes it in the terrene mud ! 
Clouds hide the beauty all-divine, 
 The moonlight has a mist of blood. 
O Hathoor, Lady of the West, 
Take thy sad lover to thy breast ! 
 
Even the perfumes of the dawn 
 Intoxicate, deceive the soul. 
Let every shadow be withdrawn ! 
 Let there be Light, supreme and whole ! 
O Ra, thou golden Lord of Day, 
The Sun of Righteousness display ! 
 
The burden is so hard to bear. 
 I took too adamant a cross ; 
This sackcloth rends my soul to wear ; 
 My self-denial is as dross ! 
O Shu, that holdest up the sky, 
Hold thou thy servant, lest he die !