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.