Thelema ScholarTHE ALEISTER CROWLEY COLLECTION
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1912 · PDF PAGE 30

Household Gods

…t, in death, make offering to Pan! Can you cut day from night by any endeavour? If so, both life and death were lost for ever. Come, the stream steepens. Crassus. This road leads to hell. Anicta. The way to heaven is shorter. Crassus. Who can tell? ALICIA. I have measured it. Crassus. You, girl? Aurcta. It is not hard. Crassvs. ‘What did you make the height of it? 33 c

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1912 · PDF PAGE 33

Household Gods

…ed the shy god! Crassus. Why heed? Between your—arms—is all the god I need. ALICIA. Prudish and coarse to the last. Now hush indeed! The stream kisses the lake. We near the shrine. Stir no snapped twig. Let your foot—even yours— Fall like a fawn's. Crassu ‘Your breath is like new wine. Aurcia, Hush now! no porpoise gambols! Crassus. How obscure’s The glimmer of the lake. Is that the isle? 36

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1912 · PDF PAGE 10

Household Gods

…d—or demon—she adores? Or in what wood she shelters, or what grove Sees her profane our sacrament of love? Aurcta. I saw her follow ‘The stream in the hollow Where never Apollo Abides. So thick are the trees That never the breeze Stirs them, or sees ‘What satyr inhabits the glen, what nymph in the pools of it hides. Lighter of foot Than a syiph or a fairy, Sinuous, wary, T passed from the airy Lawns, where the flute Of the winds made tremulous music for man. 13

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1912 · PDF PAGE 11

Household Gods

I followed the ripple Of the stream; I crept Where the waters wept— The floss in the foss Gurgling across ‘The bosses of moss, Like a dryad’s nipple In the mouth of Pant Crassus. O pearl of the house! you came to the end? Atrcra. The dusk of the slave, the dawn of a friend? Crassus. Freedom is thine for the skill and the will. Auicia. The skil! is mine—but the will lies still, Still as the earth that dare not stir Till the kiss of the sun awaken her! Crassus. Yet at these secrets and riddles? Behold! I can fill thy lap with a harvest of gold. A…

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1912 · PDF PAGE 15

Household Gods

…nd upon it. Crassus. Mystify me, girl! It is the right of an elf. Surely your flickering fire Will draw me to some mire! Aucta. Here the stream dips its mouth into the wood. So does youth’s calm and chaste beatitude Touch the black mouth of Love, the ancient whore. Crassus. Girl! what a scorpion leaping from your lips! Auta. My mouth stings as no scorpion ever stang. In this round impudent smiling face of mine There is a poison fiercer than all wines And from these eyes more subtle sorrows pour Than you can dream. These teeth have been at grips…

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