The Winged Beetle

THE WIZARD WAY 27 Surely in the circle millions Of immaculate pavilions Flash upon the trembling turf Like the sea-stars in the surf— Millions of bejewelled tents For the warrior sacraments. Vaster, vaster, vaster, vaster, Grows the stature of the master ; All the ringed encampment vies With the infinite galaxies. In the midst a cubic stone With the Devil set thereon ; ’Hath a lamb's virginal throat ; ’Hath the body of a stoat ; ’Hath the buttocks of a goat ; ’Hath the sanguine face and rod Of a goddess and a god ! Spell by spell and pace by pace ! Mystic flashes swing and trace Velvet soft the sigils stepped By the silver-starred adept. Back and front, and to and fro, Soul and body sway and flow In vertiginous caresses To imponderable recesses, Till at last the spell is woven, And the faery veil is cloven That was Sequence, Space, and Stress Of the soul-sick consciousness.