Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/28

20 Each empire froths a raving hound

That storms each zone of purple doom.

And scarlet foam and hiss of oils,—

Abhorrent signs of yawning hell!

'Mid roaring winds and echoes loud

As beaches ring with Torture's hold,

Dim shapes writhe in a cauldron's coils

While canceréd ghouls sound Circe's bell; Where hideous screes stem the crowd,

Faffling gawks gleam like burnished gold.

A gangrel imp that Satan flayed,

Shrieks deeds of sin that man-wrecks wrought

Ere gyving Death each culprit smote;

Where straggling moonbeams cleft a dome,

A Prince in splendor stands arrayed

And rants his spleen unto a ghaut,

Where mongrel whelps their sorrows wrote

In channels with a harlot's bone.

A kingdom vast with jasper light