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…ter of things; given to much unprofitable speech, and of many words. Yet clever, eloquent, etc, according to dignity‘ Malkuth of( ?וRuin, death, defeat, disruption) Herein the Angels?היבמדand?לאסכמreign LIV THE LORD OF LOVE Two of Chat/ices A WHITE Radiant Hand, issuant from the lower part of the card from a cloud, holds lotuses. A lotus flower rises 200
…ter of things; given to much unprofitable speech, and of many words. Yet clever, eloquent, etc, according to dignity‘ Malkuth of( ?וRuin, death, defeat, disruption) Herein the Angels?היבמדand?לאסכמreign LIV THE LORD OF LOVE Two of Chat/ices A WHITE Radiant Hand, issuant from the lower part of the card from a cloud, holds lotuses. A lotus flower rises 200
…ongue! For he to whom the songs are given Hath no ear to receive. The chord is riven, And he did not believe. He had no fear to die, for death could give No more pain . Than that he knew whilst he did live. He lives again In the earth Whence he had birth. Gladly he lies at rest, asleep, unknown, His ashes scattered to the four winds, blown About the world: his songs K2 147
…ongue! For he to whom the songs are given Hath no ear to receive. The chord is riven, And he did not believe. He had no fear to die, for death could give No more pain . Than that he knew whilst he did live. He lives again In the earth Whence he had birth. Gladly he lies at rest, asleep, unknown, His ashes scattered to the four winds, blown About the world: his songs K2 147
…fence of religion—for I presume it is intended as such. Myst. I was saying that if unconsciousness be not reckoned as consciousness, the death- thought is eternal heaven orhell, as it chances to be pleasant or prinful. But, on the other hand, if it be so reckoned, if that and that alone has in death no awakening, no change, then is it not certain that there is the Great Peace? Disprove immortality, reincarnation, all survival or revival of the identical Scept. Identical? Hm! Myst.—of the consciousness which the man calls “I” Scept. Which Haecke…
…Love’s exultant leaping ! Each merved in each The golden fruit is reaping ! Wilt slumber, dear? One last kiss, I be- seech ! Come to us, Death! My love and I are sleeping! EPILOGUE TO ‘‘GREEN ALPS.”? FAREWELL, my book, whose words I have not given One tithe of those fierce fires that in me dwell ! Now, after these long nights that I have striven, Farewell ! My spirit burns to know, but may not tell, Whether thy leaves, by autumn breezes driven, Fly far away beyond the immutable ; Whether thy soul shall find its home in heaven, Or dart far-flami…
life had recently been manifest. An obvious corollary is that the best bodies are those that have met a violent death, rather than those which have been subjected to illness and decay. Also, it followed that the best corpses of all were those of executed murderers, whose vitality may be assumed as very great — though on this last point Cyril Grey, for one, would have disagreed with him, saying that the most vital people would have too much respect for the principle of life to commit murder in cold blood. However, Dr Vesquit had obtained an appo…
22. JEPHTHAH. The people were sad for his wrath, The elders were bowed with despair, And Death was the piteous path ; With ashes we covered our hair; The voice of the singer was dumb, the voice of the triumph of prayer. But God had pity upon us, Our evil and fallen way; His mercy was mighty on us ; His lips are as rosy as day Broken out of the sea at the sunrise, as fragrant as flowers in May. Our sin was great in His sight: _ We chased from our gates our brother, We shamed his father’s might, We spat on the grave of his mother, We laughed in h…
…e a jewel that kings may prize.’ “Tf I live, my son, to reap the fruits of this day’s labour, my happiness will be complete. I will meet death without terror, close my eyes in peace, and expire without a groan, in the arms of a virtuous and worthy M.” XV
…e a jewel that kings may prize.’ “Tf I live, my son, to reap the fruits of this day’s labour, my happiness will be complete. I will meet death without terror, close my eyes in peace, and expire without a groan, in the arms of a virtuous and worthy M.” XV
…age, and apparently the author of these extraordinary poems realises the fact, for his volume is ‘ privately printed.’ The epilogue, ‘ A Death in Sicily,’ is really a magnificent poem—pagan in its intensity and vivedness of colouring ; but the prudes who think nakedness impurity and who abjectly fear death will denounce this really gifted poet as ‘ immoral.’ ”—Oxford Magazine. The Soul of Osiris. 5s. A marvelous collection of psychological poems, illustrating the progress of a soul from corporeal to celestial beatitude. Mr G. K. Chesterton writ…
142 MYSTERIES: THE DREAMING DEATH. “Then to me so lying awake a vision Came without sleep over the seas and touched me.” SWINBURNE, Sapphics. Y beauty in thy deep pure love Anchors its homage far above All lights of heaven. The stars awake, The very stars bend down to take From its fresh fragrance for the sake Of their own cloud-compelling peace. On earth there lies a silver fleece Of new-fallen snow, secure from sun In alleys, leafy every one This year already with the spring. The breeze blows freshly, thrushes sing, And all the woods are burg…
…life of us, ‘‘ Dwell in our midst; yea, show thy cruelty! ‘‘ Suck out the life and breath ‘‘ From breast that quickeneth. “ Such pain is death, “ Such terror, such delight—all, all is unto thee!” I too, I also, I have known thy kiss. I also drank the milk that poisons man, Sought to assume the impenetrable bliss By spells profound and draughts Canidian. One lifted me: and, lo! Thalassian, white as snow,
…? Have Thou pity yet; Sustain me in this vile extremity! [He prays silently. CORA, watching him. How wonderful! He will abide the shock. Death and mute horror fight within his face Against a will made masterful to Fate. ULRIC razses his eyes and lifts hts arm in act to strike. Then I detest you! Mother! Treacherous! Vile as the worm that battens on the dead! CORA. Ulric! He’s mad! Sweet heaven! what is this ? [CORA zs now hysterical, ULRIC does not notice. She shrieks at each new insult. ULRIC. Say rather, what are you? I loved you once Childli…
…eams assail the moon, With flames of their infernal noon ; While the smooth incense, without breath, Spreads like some scented flower of death, Over the grove ; the lover’s boon Of sleep shall steal upon them soon, And lovers’ lips, from lips withdrawn, Seek dimmer bosoms till the dawn. Yet on the central altar lies The sacrament of kneaded bread, With blood made one, the sacrifice To those, the living, who are dead— Strange gods and goddesses, that shed
…rld alarms. O Horus, Light in Darkness, bless My failure with thine own success ! My suffering is keen as theirs That in Amenti taste of death ; Not mine own pains create these prayers : For them I claim the living Breath. O Lord Osiris, bend and bring All winters to thy sign of Spring ! Poor folly mine : I cannot see Save from one corner of one star ! So many millions over me ; So many, and the next, how far !
…ests Worshipped a wonderful woman With a body lithe as a beast’s, Subtly, horribly human. Deep in the pit of her eyes I saw the image of death, And I drew the water of sighs From the well of her lullaby breath. She sitteth veiled for ever Brooding over the waste. She hath stirred or spoken never. She is fiercely, manly chaste! What madness made me awake From the silence of utmost eld The grey cold slime of the snake That her poisonous body held?
…ests Worshipped a wonderful woman With a body lithe as a beast’s, Subtly, horribly human. Deep in the pit of her eyes I saw the image of death, And I drew the water of sighs From the well of her lullaby breath. She sitteth veiled for ever Brooding over the waste. She hath stirred or spoken never. She is fiercely, manly chaste! What madness made me awake From the silence of utmost eld The grey cold slime of the snake That her poisonous body held?
…mous secret of years, The veil is hardly rent While the eyes rain stones for tears. So I clung to the lips and laughter As the storms of death abated, The storms of the grievous graft By the swing of her soul unsated.
…w myself upon the grass ; I wail, a lone wolf, to the moon ; Huddled and hunched, a moaning massHow near God was those nights of June ! Death ! the mere thought of it ! For nowwhere is the ship ? where is my man ? The blood is bursting from my brow ; my choked shrieks prostitute to Pan ! Great Pan it is that thrusts his sword into my throat and strangles me ! Great Pan that clubs me on the sward with his robust brutality ! Ah no ! ah no ! Let me go blind rather than let that face of fear Swollen, its black indenture signed with blood, most ma…