The Mother’s Tragedy

48 THE FATAL FORCE The mother of all things, the full desire, The immitigable, intelligible one, Reality beyond realities! This hour the foolish ones shall see their souls Shrink at my manifest deity. This night My spirit on my spirit shall beget Myself for my own child. Behold! they come, Fantastically moving through the dance, The many mourners, and the fatal bier Looms in the dimness of the anteroom. It is enough. My hour is at hand! CHORUS enter and circumambulate. Even as the traitor’s breath Goeth forth, he perisheth By the secret sibilant word that is spoken unto death. Even as the profane hand Reacheth to the sacred sand, Fire consumes him that his name be forgotten in the land. Even as the wicked eye Seeks the mysteries to spy, So the blindness of the gods takes his spirit: he shall die. Even as the evil priest, Poisoned by the sacred feast, Changes by its seven powers to the misbegotten beast.