18 
THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
JEZEBEL. 
 
PART I. 
 
 
 LION’S mane, a leopard’s skin 
 Across my dusty shoulders thrown ; 
A swart fierce face, with eyes where sin 
 Lurks like a serpent by a stone. 
A man driven forth by lust to seek 
Rest from himself on Carmel’s peak. 
 
A prophet with wild hair behind, 
 Streaming in fiery clusters !  Yea, 
Tangled with vehemence of the wind, 
 And knotted with the tears that slay ; 
And all my face parched up and dried, 
And all my body crucified. 
 
Ofttimes the Spirit of the Lord 
 Descends and floods me with his breath ; 
My words are fashioned as a sword, 
 My voice is like the voice of death. 
The thunder of the Spirit’s wings 
Brings terror to the hearts of kings. 
 
  A