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A TRIP THROUGH HELL
57
That glare like carcants red and white;
And glowing rubies in the dust
That lure each man-born skink and whelp,
The spastic cries and moaning sighs
Attest to Typhon's weird dight,—
And Satan's ichor of green lust,
Provokes the lashing heat and skelp.
Within the cathedral vaults of gloom,
The gorgeous pomp of the flayed,
In banded gold and marble flesh,
Speak of auguries to the damn'd,
Till, when censers' lights flare and bloom,
And shapes of men are laid arrayed
In gomes of steel, we tred the mesh
And grandeur of a conjured stand,
Where coral wreathes each hussy's brow,
Whose broken arms portray hell's lust,
Of whistling winzes, syrt and domes
That gleaming broths in anger wrought,
'Mid hiss of snakes and oils. So now,
