The Soul of Osiris

70 THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. Only the quest ! if any quest there be ! What is my purpose ? Could the Godhead guess ? So the long way seemed moving as I went, Flashing beneath me ; and the firmament Moving with quicker robes that swept the air. Still Dian drew me to her bosom bare, And madness more than will was my content. I moved, and as I moved I was aware ! The plain is covered with a many dead. Glisten white bone and salt-encrusted head, Glazed eye imagined, of a crystal built. And see ! dark patches, as of murder spilt. Ugh ! “ So thy fellows of the quest are sped ! Thou shall be with them : onward, if thou wilt ! ” So was the chilling whisper at my side, Or in my brain. Then surged the maddening tide Of my intention. Onward ! Let me run ! Thy steed, O Moon ! Thy chariot, O Sun ! Lend me fierce feet, winged sandals, wings as wide As thine, O East wind ! And the goal is won ! Was ever such a cruel solitude ? Up rears the pillar. Quaintly shaped and hued, It focussed all the sky and all the plain To its own ugliness. I looked again, And saw its magic in another mood. A shapeless truth took image in my brain.