"My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man's name!"Soon at the head of myriads, blind and fierce "As hooded falcons, through the universe "I'll sweep my dark'ning, desolating way, "Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey ! "Ye wise, ye learned, who grope your dull way on "By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone, "Like superstitious thieves, who think the light "From dead men's marrow guides them best at "I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothingness; "Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere, "But a gilt stick, a bawble blinds it here. "How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, "In lying speech, and still more lying song, "By these learned slaves, the meanest of the throng; "Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small, "A sceptre's puny point can wield it all! "Ye too, believers of incredible creeds, "Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds; "Who, bolder even than NEMROD, think to rise, 66 By nonsense heaped on nonsense, to the skies "Ye shall have miracles, aye, sound ones too, "Seen, heard, attested, everything - but true. "Your preaching zealots, too inspired to seek ; One grace of meaning for the things they speak; "Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood, "For truths too heavenly to be understood; - 54 "And your State Priests, sole vendors of the lore, "That works salvation; as, on Ava's shore, "Where none but priests are privileged to trade "In that best marble of which gods are made; "They shall have mysteries- aye, precious stuff "For knaves to thrive by mysteries enough; "Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave, "Which simple votaries shall on trust receive, "While craftier feign belief, till they believe. "A heaven too ye must have, ye lords of dust, "A splendid Paradise,- pure souls, ye must: "That Prophet ill sustains his holy call, "Who finds not heavens to suit the tastes of all; "Houries for boys, omniscience for sages, "And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. "Vain things!-as lust or vanity inspires, "The heaven of each is but what each desires, "And, soul or sense, whate'er the object be, "Man would be man to all eternity! "So let him — EBLIS! grant this crowning curse, "But keep him what he is, no hell were worse.' "Oh my lost soul!" exclaimed the shuddering maid, Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said: He knew no more of fear than one who dwells Beneath the tropics knows of icicles! But in those dismal words that reached his ear, "Oh my lost soul!" there was a sound so drear, So like that voice, among the sinful dead, In which the legend o'er Hell's Gate is read, That, new as 't was from her, whom naught could dim Or sink till now, it startled even him. "Ha, my fair Priestess!" thus, with ready wile, Th' Impostor turned to greet her smile "Hath inspiration in its rosy beam "thou whose "Beyond th' Enthusiast's hope or Prophet's dream; "Light of the faith! who twin'st religion's zeal "So close with love's, men know not which they feel, "Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart, "The heaven thou preachest or the heaven thou art! "What should I be without thee? without thee "How dull were power, how joyless victory! "Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine "Blessed not my banner, 't were but half divine. "But-why so mournful, child? those eyes, that shone "All life last night-what!—is their glory gone? "Come, come this morn's fatigue hath made them pale, "They want rekindling - suns themselves would fail |