120 
THE LADDER 
 
 
I am past.  Hail, Hecate !  Untrod 
Thy steep ascent to God, to God !   
Lo, what unnamed, unnameable 
Sphere hangs above inscrutable ?   
There is no virtue in thy kiss 
To affront that soul-less swart abyss. 
 
I match, &c. 
 
DAATH 
I am insane.  My reason tumbles ;   
The tower of my being crumbles. 
Here all is doubt, distress, despair :   
There is no force in strength or prayer 
If pass I may, it is by might 
Of the momentum of my flight. 
 
I match, &c. 
 
GIMEL (and the crossing of Daleth) 
Free from that curse, loosed from that prison ;   
From all that ruin am I risen !   
Pure still, the virgin moon beguiles 
My azure passage with her smiles. 
 
Now !  O what love divine redeems 
My death, and bathes it in her beams !   
What sacring transubstantiates 
My flesh and blood, and incarnates