Nay, let all light, all things, but cease!
Sense is the seal of double rule.
The million oracles that run
Out of the mouth of God the fool
are not myself. To nothing turn!
To nothing look! Then, then !—discern
Nothing, that one may one remain.
So I am paid the horrible pain
That these my brothers ordered me.
I look upon their brows—I see
Signs many and deep
of torture past;
A star, yon star, true peace at last.
(There approach an aged man, riding upon an ass,
with a led ass, and a Nubian servant.)
The Adept. In the name of God, the One, the
Great,
Merciful and compassionate,
Acclaim the perfect period
Of ordeal past !
The Neophyte. There is no God!
A. Rise! in the name of obscure Fate,
Ruthless and uncompassionate.
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