158 
AVE ADONAI 
 
 
Come !  I am writhing with despair 
Like a snake taken in a snare, 
 
Moaning thy mystical name 
 
Till my tongue is torn and bleeding !   
 
Have I not gilded my nails 
 
And painted my lips with vermilion ?   
Yea !  thou art I ;  the deed awakes, 
 Thy lightning strikes ;  thy thunder breaks 
 
Wild as the bride that wails 
 
In the bridegroom’s plumed pavilion !