Gargoyles

In death each damnéd minion Of Set, the accursed lord of Hell. Yea! in those globes of fire there sate Some cruel knowledge closely curled Like serpents in those halls of hate, Palaces of the Underworld. But in the hell-glow of those eyes The ashen skull of Pharaoh shone White as the moonrays that surprise The invoking Druse on Lebanon. Moreover pylon shouldered round To pylon an unearthly tune, Like phantom priests that strike and sound Sinister sistrons at the moon. And death’s insufferable perfume Beat the black air with golden fans As Turkis rip a Nubian’s womb With damascenéd yataghans. 79