The Saturnienne
Beneath the skies of Saturn, pale and many-mooned,Her palace is;Her wyvern-warded spires of celadon, enrunedWith names benign and mightier names of malefice,Illume with saffron pharesA marish by the black, lethargic seas lagooned;Her dragon-holden stairsGo down in coiling jet and gold on some unplumbed abyss.
Long as a leaping flame, exalted over all,Across the sunHer banners bear Aidennic blooms armorialAnd beasts infernal on a field of ciclaton;Amid her agate courts,Like to a demon ichor, towering proud and tall,A scarlet fountain spurts,To fall upon parterres of dwale and deathly hebenon.
From out her amber windows, gazing languidlyOn a weird landWhere conium and cannabis and upas-treeSeem wrought in verdigris against the copper sand,She sees and sees againA trailing salt like leprous dragons from the seaFar-crawled upon the fen;And foam of monster-cloven gulfs beyond a fallow strand.
Or, looking from her turrets to the south and north,She notes the gleamOf molied mountains and of rivers pouring forth,Clear as the dawn, to fail in fulvous rill and streamThe widening waste amid;Or swell the fallen meres, abominable, swarth,In green mirages hid,To be the unquested grails of bell, of death and deathful dream.