138
THE
STAR
IN THE WEST
psychopathic
mist dims his mind , and
all
the love
he
lavished
on
the body
of
the living woman turns
to
a
lust for her cadaver
:
1
The spirit filled me
.
And behold
!
I
saw her dead stare
to
the skies
.
I
came
to
her
,
she was not cold
,
But burning with old infamies
.
On her incestuous
mouth
I
fell
,
And lost my soul
for
Jezebel
.
They cast her forth
on
Naboth's field
Still living
,
in
her harlot's dress
;
Her belly stript
,
her thighs concealed
,
For shame's
sake and for love's
no
less
.
Night falls
;
the gaping crowds abide
No longer
by
her stiffening side
.
“
Ah
!
prophet
,
come
to
mock
at
me
And gloat
on
mine exceeding
pain
?"
Nay but
to
give my soul
to
thee
,
And have
thee spit
at
me again
!”
She smiled
-
I
know she smiled
-
she sighed
,
Bit my lips through
,
and drank
,
and died
!
My veins
poured
out her marriage cup
,
For holy water her cruel tongue
;
For blessing
of
white hands
raised
up
,
These perfumed
infamies unsung
;
For God's breath
,
her sharp tainted breath
;
For marriage
-
bed
,
the bed
of
death
.
The host
is
lifted
up
.
Behold
The vintage spilt
,
the broken bread
!
I
feast
upon
the cruel cold
Pale body that was ripe and red
.
Only
,
her head
,
her palms
,
her feet
,
I
kissed
all
night
,
and did not eat
.'
1
Jezebel
,
vol
.
i,
pp
.
131-132
.