Collected Works (Vol. I)

THE HOLY PLACE 201 None may withstand the summons: like | The actual demon of my work is there ! dead flame Where is the glittering circle? Where, ah, Flares darkness deeper, and demandsits name. Mine eyes peer deeper in the quivering gloom— What horrors crowd upon the aching sight ! Behold! the phantom! Icy as the tomb, His head of writhing scorpions in the womb Of deadlier terrors: how a charnel-light Gleams on his beet!~ frame! What poison drips Of slime and blood from his disastrous lips ! What oceans of decaying water steam For his vast essence! And a voice rolls forth With miserable fury from that stream Of horror: ‘‘Thou hast called me by the beam Of glory, by the devastating wrath Of thine accurséd godhead:: tell me then My Name! Thou hardiest of the Sons of Men !” ‘‘Thy name is—stay! thou liest! I discern In Thee no terror that my spells evoke. Begone, thou wandering corpse of night ! return Into thy shadowy world! My symbols burn cgainst thee, shade of terror! Go!” It spoke: “Yea! Tam human. Know my actual truth: I am that ghost, the father of thy youth !” ‘* Poor wandering phantom !”—the exultant yell And wolfish howling of all damnéd souls Peals from the ravening jaws and gulfs of hell: Leaps that foul horror through the terrible Extinguished circle of the burning bowls. Then I remember, fling the gleaming rod Against him: “ Liar, back ! For I am God !” Back flung the baffled corpse. the air Looms the more startling vision in the night ; But through where The radiant bowls whose flame rose fiery bright ? I am alone in the absolute abyss ; No aid; no helper; no defence—but this ! My left hand seeks the lamen. Once again Fearless I front the awful shape before me, earless I speak his Name. My trembling brain Vibrates that Word of Power. I cry amain: ‘‘Down, Dweller of the Darkness, and adore me! fam thy Master, and thy God! Behold The Rose of Ruby and the Cross of Gold !3 “Jam thy Saviour!” At the kindling word Up springs the dawn-light in the broken bowls ; Up leaps the glittering circle. Then I heard A hoarse shrill voice, as if some carrion bird Shrieked, mightier than the storm that rocks and rolls Through desolation: my Name. What is thy purpose, Master of the Flame ?” ‘Thou hast known I made demand: through long appalling hours Stayed he to tempt and try my adamant Purpose: at last the legionary powers Behind him sank affrayed ; his visage lowers Less menacing: his head is turned aslant In vain : I bid him kneel and swear : the earth Rocked with the terror of that deadlier birth. He swore: he vanished: the wide sky resounds With echoing -thunders: through the blinding night The stars resume their courses: at the bounds Of the four watch-towers cry the waking hounds : ‘‘The night is well’: ambient light Through all the borders of the universe At that last lifting of my strenuous curse. slow steals the 1 '* Ave Frater!” Aureae Crucis.” ‘*Rosae Rubeae.” ‘Et Greeting of Rosicrucians.