The Winged Beetle

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