Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/68

60 Spout uncoped shard unto a bench

Where sights of men-wrecks gasp for breath,

Whilst quickly from a bowelless whelp

Drop ghastly stones of scarlet hue

That brazen imps hurl thro' the air

At sobbing wraiths and furrowed souls,

Wrought by a fiend and conjured skelp

As men and women hold a pew

Within a turgid, acrid lair,—

Infernal aisles of yawning shoals!

T'ward cyphers bright and terrible,

Where Doom sits poised as Satan yawns,—

Each Vulture's home and arid shoal!

We hurl a curse and damn the hordes

That call each monster horrible.

Then craftily he moves his pawns

(Whenas a moan escapes each soul)

As bleary sons of noble lords

Sway twin censers' fumes in silence,

Until in myrtle groves we see