THE COURT OF THE PROFANE. 
5 
For, maddening to fiercer thought, 
 The fiery limbs requicken, wheel 
In formless furies, subtly wrought 
 Of swifter melodies than steel 
 That flashes in the fight :  the peal 
Of amorous laughters choking sense, 
And madness kissing violence, 
 Rings like dead horsemen ;  bodies reel 
 Drunken with motion ;  spirits feel 
The strange constraint of gods that dip 
From Heaven to mingle lip and lip. 
 
The gods descend to dance ;  the noise 
 Of hungry kissings, as a swoon, 
Faints for excess of its own joys, 
 And mystic beams assail the moon, 
 With flames of their infernal noon ; 
While the smooth incense, without breath, 
Spreads like some scented flower of death, 
 Over the grove ;  the lover’s boon 
 Of sleep shall steal upon them soon, 
And lovers’ lips, from lips withdrawn, 
Seek dimmer bosoms till the dawn. 
 
Yet on the central altar lies 
 The sacrament of kneaded bread, 
With blood made one, the sacrifice 
 To those, the living, who are dead— 
 Strange gods and goddesses, that shed