THE HOLY PLACE. 
85 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE NEOPHYTE. 
 
 
O-NIGHT I tread the unsubstantial way 
 That looms before me, as the thundering night 
Falls on the ocean :  I must stop, and pray 
One little prayer, and then—what bitter fight 
Flames at the end beyond the darkling goal ? 
These are my passions that my feet must tread ; 
This is my sword, the fervour of my soul ; 
This is my Will, the crown upon my head. 
For see !  the darkness beckons :  I have gone, 
Before this terrible hour, towards the gloom, 
Braved the wild dragon, called the tiger on 
With whirling cries of pride, sought out the tomb 
Where lurking vampires battened, and my steel 
Has wrought its splendour through the gates of death. 
My courage did not falter :  now I feel 
My heart beat wave-wise, and my throat catch breath 
As if I choked ;  some horror creeps between 
The spirit of my will and its desire, 
Some just reluctance to the Great Unseen 
That coils its nameless terrors, and its dire 
Fear round my heart ;  a devil cold as ice 
Breathes somewhere, for I feel his shudder take 
 
  T