Collected Works (Vol. I)

190 bf THE TEMPLE OF THE HOLY GHOST Conceive, I charge thee! Brace thy spirit up To drink at that imagination’s cup ! Then, shriek, and pass! For thou shalt understand A little of the pressure of the hand That crushed me now. Yes, yes! let fancy sup That grislier banquet than old Atreus 4 planned ! wasind cannot fathom, nor the brain conceive, Nor soul assimilate, nor heart believe The horror of that Thing without a Name. Full on me, boasting, like Death’s hand it came, And struck me headlong. I weave The web of mine old agony and shame. Linger, while A little shadow of that hour of mine Touches thy heart? Fill up the foaming wine, And listen for a little! How profound Strikes memory keen-fanged; memory, the hound That tracks me yet ! a shiver takes ny spine At one half-hint, the shadow of that sound. Where am I? Seven days my spirit fell, Down, down the whirlpools and the gulfs of hell : Seven days a corpse lay desolate—at last Back drew the spirit and the soul aghast To animate that clay—O horrible ! The resurrection pang is hardly past. Yet in awhile I stumbled to my feet To flee—no nightmare could be worse to meet. And, spite of that, I knew some deadlier trap Some worm more poisonous would set— mayhap! 1 Atreus, King of Mycenae, gave a banquet of pretended reconciliation to his half-brother Thyestes, at which the two sons of ‘Thyestes }- were served up. I turned—the path? My horror was com- plete— A flaming sword aciuss the earthquake gap. I cried aloud to God in my despair. ‘The quest of quests! I seek it, for I dare ! Moonward ! on, moonward moon shone, A glory for God’s eyes to dwell upon, A path of silver furrowed in the air, A gateway where an angel might have gone. 1? And the full And forward gleamed a narrow way of earth Crusted with salt: I watch the fairy birth Of countless flashes on the crystal flakes, Forgetting it is only death that makes Its home the centre of that starry girth. Yet, what is life? The manhood in wakes. me The absolute desire hath hold of me. Death were most welcome in that solemn sea } So bitter is my life. But carelessness Of life and death and love is on me—yes! Only the quest ! if any quest there be! What is my purpose? Could the Godhead Puess ? So the long way seemed moving as I went, Flashing beneath me ; and the firmament Moving with quicker robes that swept the alr, Still Dian drew me to her bosom bare, And madness more than will was my con- tent. I moved, and as I moved I was aware! The plain is covered with a many dead. Glisten white bone and salt-encrusted head, Glazed eye imagined, ofa crystal built. And see! dark patches, as of murder spilt. Ugh! ‘‘So thy fellows of the quest are sped ! : Thou shalt be with them: onward, if thon wilt!”