Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/76

68 Of wifes that sold their names in lust,

Or men that worshipped naught but gold.

And, when stillness holds troubled sway,

A baneful imp that Conscience smote,

Rasps names of those bowed in the dust:

And, when thus their sins are foretold,

As kinsmen strike their beasts and pray,

A livid gasp permeates the air,

A curdling curse assails the night.

And squats, whose scarlet venom crawls

To lantern's-glow that tell the guilt

Of battling demons as they swear,

Malignly dumb below each light

That scyle the bloody walls and halls,

The life-ebb from a wench is spilt.

The phosphorescent fungus-lights

Are traitors' lamps that sorrows hide;

The foam-sprayed beaches that we see,

Are treasure-houses for the damn'd.

From year to year infernal nights

Rasp shoals a thousand furlongs wide;