The Equinox (Volume I, Number IX)

THE TEMPLE OF SOLOMON THE KING oLympas. O nowI burn with holy haste. This doctrine hath so sweet a taste That all the other wine is sour. MARSYAS. Son, there’s a bee for every flower. Lie open, a chameleon cup, And let Him suck thine honey up! Ah, boy, all crowns and thrones above Is the sanctity of love. In His warm and secret shrine Is a cup of perfect wine, Whereof one drop is medicine Against all ills that hurt the soul. A flaming daughter of the Jinn Brought to me once a winged scroll, Wherein I read the spell that brings The knowledge of that King of Kings. Angel, I invoke thee now! Bend on me the starry brow| Spread the eagle wings above The pavilion of our love! . . . Rise from your starry sapphire seats! See, where through the quickening skies The oriflamme of beauty beats Heralding loyal legionaries, Whose flame of golden javelins Fences those peerless paladins. There are the burning lamps of them, Splendid star-clusters to begem The trailing torrents of those blue Bright wings that bear mine angel through ! 103