The Soul of Osiris

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