Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/107

Rh Her husband's love and honour old,

And smites him stark and cold, tho' loath,

It peers to me her demon-ague

That binds her to this perjured soul,

She drinks his gore from carvels cold

And leers with fiendish lips at him,

Now tossed in phosphorescent holes.

And as I list to aspen cries,

Veiled augueries in vapours hie

And spell these tokens to each Inn:

Kingdoms, empires, nations, souls,

Shall miss the haunts of Paradise,

And in Subjection, crumbling, lie.

And when the regions, wrapped in light

By pillared dreams and pomps supreme

As curses stir the charnel air

That hide dank caverns deep and bold,

A battling monster smites the night

As lepers wink their orbs and dream

Of maidens that the men forswear,

Of templed vaults now stiff in cold.