Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/75

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Of its two heads, one sting is in thy brain,
The other in thy heart; their venom-pain
Like fire distilling through thee uncontrolled.

A rod of serpents wieldeth thy right hand;
Thy left a cup of raging fire, whose light
Burns lurid on thyself as thou dost stand;
Thy lidless eyes tenebriously bright;
Thy wings, thy vesture, thy dishevelled hair
Dark as the Grave; thou statue of Despair,
Thou Night essential radiating night.

Thus have I seen thee in thine actual form;
Not thus can see thee those whom thou dost sway,
Inscrutable Enchantress: young and warm,
Pard-beautiful and brilliant, ever gay;
Thy cup the very Wine of Life, thy rod
The wand of more voluptuous spells than God
Can wield in Heaven; thus charmest thou thy prey.

The selfish, fatuous, proud, and pitiless,
All who have falsified life's royal trust;
The strong whose strength hath basked in idleness,
The great heart given up to worldly lust,