Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/110

102 Of Satellites gray 'gainst the night,

Till, eyes in fear peer at profounds

Unfathomed and, in vales unsunned,

See Cyclops battling in the light,

'Mid scarlet foam and gorey sight

Of bloody domes and hybrid hounds

Of Titan's forges, cold, unstunned.

Oh, vain each sinner's prayer of hope! Alas, alas, all thoughts of future trust! The bloody lanes of reigning Doom

Are lasting tombs for souls accurst.

When in a pool we lie and mope

As vaulted temples rot in dust,

Vague shapes and forms ascend to spell

Infernal chasms of black gloom.

When crested waves of billowed sea

Are lashed by winds from foreign shoal,

And foam-set breasts are dashed on high

As silence holds the voiceless air,

Unsavoury dreams haunt each lee— The maw of Hell receives a soul!