Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/75

 Of its two heads, one sting is in thy brain, The other in thy heart; their venom-pain Like fire distilling through thee uncontrolled.

A rod of serpents wieldeth thy right hand; Thy left a cup of raging fire, whose light Burns lurid on thyself as thou dost stand; Thy lidless eyes tenebriously bright; Thy wings, thy vesture, thy dishevelled hair Dark as the Grave; thou statue of Despair, Thou Night essential radiating night.

Thus have I seen thee in thine actual form; Not thus can see thee those whom thou dost sway, Inscrutable Enchantress: young and warm, Pard-beautiful and brilliant, ever gay; Thy cup the very Wine of Life, thy rod The wand of more voluptuous spells than God Can wield in Heaven; thus charmest thou thy prey.

The selfish, fatuous, proud, and pitiless, All who have falsified life's royal trust; The strong whose strength hath basked in idleness, The great heart given up to worldly lust,