Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/38

30 The seeds of Thaumaturgist's arts.

Then shakes his fist above all necks

(Whenas the dirges pierce the gloom)

And sheds his addling tears of woe.

Perturbéd at sights of flashing darts

That dragons hurl amongst soul-wrecks,

He smites a staff upon a tomb

Where phosphorescent torches glow,

And mouths his words at earless owls,

Past ribboned dusk and pillaréd woe,

Where sonless maids their sorrows heal,

And mixes purple mists with light,

Both moaning airs and cringing howls,

The swirling skelp that heavens show,

And changes this vast plane of weal,

This kingdom's tomb of rasping night

To elfin cheer as dances bloom,

And speeds his flight from Terror's urn,

Past jasper lanes where moonstones glow,

And turns his eyes at writhing Hell,

Upon the spectral haunts of Doom,