Tale of Archais

24 THE TALE OF ARCHAIS Of perfect love ; the sin that seeks its home In lights and longings frailer than the foam ; The sin that loves the hollows of the night, The sin that fears ; the sin that hates the light ; The sin that looks with wistful eyes ; the sin That trembles on the olive of the skin ; The sin that slumbers ; these divide the day And all the darkness, and deceive, and slay. And these regather in the womb of hell To marry and increase, and by the spell Of their own wickedness discover sin Unguessed at, but slow treason creeping in, To spread corruption, and destroy the earth. But in the holy hour and happy birth That swam through stars propitious, meadows white, And fresh with newer flowers of the night In the pale fields supernal, when his sire Took from the nurse the child of his desire, A man, the prayers of many maidens sent So sweet a savour through the firmament That no false spirit might draw nigh. And still His angel ministers defend from ill The head they nurtured. Evil dreams and spells, Cast at the dimmest hour, the sword repels