The Soul of Osiris

86 THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. My veins : some deadlier asp or cockatrice Slimes in my senses : I am half awake, Half automatic, as I move along Wrapped in a cloud of blackness deep as hell, Hearing afar some half-forgotten song As of disruption ; yet strange glories dwell Above my head, as if a sword of light, Rayed of the very Dawn, would strike within The limitations of this deadly night That folds me for the sign of death and sin— O Light ! descend ! My feet move vaguely on In this amazing darkness, in the gloom That I can touch with trembling sense. There shone Once, in my misty memory, in the womb Of some unformulated thought, the flame And smoke of mighty pillars ; yet my mind Is clouded with the horror of this same Path of the wise men : for my soul is blind Yet : and the foemen I have never feared I could not see (if such should cross the way), And therefore I am strange : my soul is seared With desolation of the blinding day I have come out from : yes, that fearful light Was not the Sun : my life has been the death, This death may be the life : my spirit sight Knows that at last, at least. My doubtful breath Is breathing in a nobler air ; I know, I know it in my soul, despite of this, The clinging darkness of the Long Ago, Cruel as death, and closer than a kiss,