The Soul of Osiris

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 Let every shadow be withdrawn !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 !