Page:Lalla Rookh - Moore - 1817.djvu/124



Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare, The stony look of horror and despair, Which some of these expiring victims cast Upon their souls' tormentor to the last; Upon that mocking Fiend whose Veil now raised, Showed them as in death's agony they gazed, Not the long promised light, the brow whose beaming Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming, But features horribler than Hell e'er traced On its own brood;--no Demon of the Waste, No church-yard Ghoul caught lingering in the light Of the blest sun, e'er blasted human sight With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those The Impostor now in grinning mockery shows:-- "There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star-- "Ye would be dupes and victims and ye are. "Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill "Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? "