Collected Works (Vol. I)

176 THE TEMPLE OF THE HOLY GHOST By whose power the master reaches To the stubborn fiery springs ; By the mystery of the beaches Where the siren Sibyl] sings ; I will hold her, live and bleeding; Clasp her to me, pale and pleading ; Hold her in a human shape ; Hold her safe without escape ! So I put my spells about her As she flew into my dreams ; So I drew her to the outer Land of unforgetful streams ; So I laid her (who should doubt her ?) Where enamelled verdure gleams, Drew her spirit from without her ! In her eyelids stellar beams Glow renascent, now I hold her Breast to breast, and shining shoulder Laid to shoulder, in the bliss Of the uncreated kiss. Lips to lips beget for daughters Little kisses of the breeze ; Limbs entwined with limbs, the waters Of incredible blue seas ; Eyes that understand, the slaughters Of a thousand ecstasies Re-embodied, as they wrought us Garlands of strange sorceries ; New desires and mystic passion Infinite, of starry fashion ; The mysterious desire Of the subtle formless fire. Vainly may the Tyanzean 4 Throw his misconceiving eye To bewitch our empyrean Splendours of the under sky ! If the loud infernal pcean Be our marriage-melody, We are careless, we Achzean Moulders of our destiny. Hell, it may be, for his playing, Renders Orpheus the decaying Love—in Hell, if Hell there be, I would seek Eurydice ! If she be the demon sister Of my brain's mysterious womb ; If she brand my soul and blister Me with kisses of the tomb; If she drag me where the bistre Vaults of Hell gape wide in gloom ; Little matter ! I have kissed her ! Little matter ! as a loom She has woven love around me, As with burning silver bound me, Held me to her scented skin For an age of deadly sin! So I fasten to me tighter Fetters on her limbs that fret ; So my kisses kindle brighter, Fiercer, flames of Hell, and set Single, silent, as a mitre Blasphemous, a crown of jet On our foreheads, paler, whiter Than the snowiest violet. So I forge the chains of fire Round our single-souled desire. Heaven and Hell we reck not of, Being infinite in love. Come, my demon-spouse, to fashion The fantastic marriage-bed ! Let the starry billows splash on Roth our bodies, let them shed Dewfall, as the streams Thalassian On Selene’s fallen head ! Let us mingle magic passion, Interpenetrating, dead, Deathless, O my dead sweet maiden ! Lifeless, in the secret Aidenn !1 Let our bodies meet and mix On the spirit’s crucifix ! 1 This word is taken direct from Poe’s ’ in the sense in which it is used by 1 Apollonius of Tyana, the sage whose glance dissolved the illusion which Lamia had cast | ‘‘ Raven’ about herself. See Keats's poem. him.