The Winged Beetle

159 THE WILD ASS I THE secret of the House of Set Is hidden in my sevenfold veil ; For I am he that doth beget The Rood, and bear the Holy Graal. Yet is my manhood woman-frail Barren my motherhood. Then how Shall men my mystic mountain scale ? These ram’s-horn thumbs jut from my brow To push them to the miry slough Wherein the foes of Set are caught. Come, let us pluck the Golden Bough From the brave Tree of life and thought ! Who heareth naught, he heedeth naught. Come, we are safely housed and shrined Where subtler images are wrought Than boast the treasuries of Mind ! II The secret of the House of Set. As a poor pilgrim clambering Toils on the slopes, so I to get Halidom for my lord the King.