The Soul of Osiris

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flower of death, Over the grove ; the lover’s boon Of sleep shall steal upon them soon, And lovers’ lips, from lips withdrawn, Seek dimmer bosoms till the dawn.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