Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/106

98 By demon-husbands as I list,

To hold each mongrel harlot's sigh.

There, then, in tatter'd rags and hair,

Coarse-grained of features once so fine,

She spews her evil wrath and rage

Into the wriggling hands and face

Of him who lifts his voice to swear

A curse that stirs the air, whose time

(Tho' to king Satan speeds a page)

Hath come as Vengeance wins the race.

When crimson skies and stellor eyes

Swathed palace domes and turrets strong,

Her lips kiss'd mine, and mine did hers,

Ere evil smote her virgin soul.

And livid lights of bleeding dyes

(Whenas she prods him with her prong)

Make terrible her words so terse

That brands this scoundrel on this shoal.

And mutt'ring quick a ghastly oath

As turgid mists veil shadows vague,

She plucks his lying tongue that stole