Thelema ScholarTHE ALEISTER CROWLEY COLLECTION
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1905 · CLOSE READING

Collected Works (Vol. I)

Collected Works (Vol. I) (1905), PDF p. 133

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126 MYSTERIES: LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC Far on the iron peaks a voice Crystal and cold, Sharper than sounds the aurochs’ ! choice O’er wood and wold, A summons as of angels that rejoice, A peean glad and bold, ; A mighty shout of infinite acclaim Shrieks through the sky some dread forgotten Name. Trembles the demon on his perch Of crags ice-bound ; Tremble near forest and far church At that quick sound ; The silver arrows that bedeck the birch Shiver along the ground : Priest, fiend, and harpy answer to the call, And hasten to their ghastly festival. There in the vale below my feet I see the crew Gather, blaspheming God, and greet Their shame anew. A feast is spread of some unholy meat ; Ofttimes there murmurs through Their horrid ranks a cry of pain, as God Bids them keep memory of Lis iron rod. The vale is black with priests. They fight, Wild beasts, for food, The orphan’s gold, the widow’s right, The virgin’s snood. Allin their maws are crammed within the night That hides their chosen wood, Where through the blackness sounds the sickening noise Of cannibals that gloat on monstrous joys. The valley steams with slaughter, Tere Shall the pure snow The bloody reek of murder rear To crush the foe ? In Titan fury shall the rocks spring clear, And smite the fiends below? Shall] poisonous wind and avalanche combine To wreck swift justice, human and divine? 1 ‘The extinct Wiid Bull of Iurope. Priests thrive on poison. Carrion Their eager teeth Tear, till the sacramental sun Its sword unsheath, And bid their horrid carnival be done, And smite beneath In their cold gasping valleys, and bid light Break the battalions of the angry night. That sword that smote from Hleaven was so keen, Its silver blade No angel’s sight, no fairy’s eye hath seen, No tender maid With subtle insight may behold its sheen With light inlaid ; But God, who forged it, breathed upon its point, And His pure unction did the hilt anoint. Within the poet’s hand he laid the sword : With reverent ear The poet listened to His word Cleansed through of fear. The brightness of the glory of the Lord Grew adamant, a spear ! «And when he took the falchion in his hand Lo! kings and princes bowed to his command. Then shall the flag of England flaunt In peaceful might, The sceptred isle of dying Gaunt! Shall rule by right. The sons of England shall bid Hell avaunt And priest and harlot smite. Then all the forces of the earth shall be Untamable, a shield of Liberty. Freedom shall burgeon like a rose, While in the sky A new white sun with ardour glows On liberty. Men shall sing merrily at work as those Who fear no more to die— Ay! and who fear no more at last to live Since man can love and worship and forgive. 1 See Richard 17/., ii. 1,
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