Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/82

74 (A rock that some giant storm hath split)

In mourning robes and rasping breath,

Before a grave where devils sit,

A Queen at whom a lizard stares,

Sobs her grief and woe that tears writ

Deep into the phorphyry mount:

This, then, is Deaths home, vale and Tomb!

Where Lancers, made equal with the dust

When revolt storm'd each kingdom's fold,

And clashing wars spun Hecate round

The pungent halls of spastic Doom;

When in each Nation fought king Lust

As siffling vapours gleamed like gold,

Ten legions whom the gods forsook

Wrought havoc on this Cauldron's shore:

Then Dragon-guidons led the march

As battle-axes smote vile Lords;

Stout hears that with king Vengeance shook,

Fought with valour's shield for more gore;

Assaults that rasped each Temple's arch,

Spake conquest o'er shambling hordes.