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THE GHOUL AND THE SERAPH
Thou braggest of, and grapes of azure wine,Have been the dung of dragons, and the bloodOf toads in Phlegethon; each particleThat is their splendour, clomb in separate ways,Through suns, and worlds, and cycles infinite—Through burning brume of systems unbegun,Or manes of long-haired comets, that have lashedThe night of space to fury and to fire;And in the core of cold and lightless stars,And in immalleable metals deep.Each atomy hath slept, or known the slimeOf Cyclopean oceans turned to airBefore the suns of Ophiuchus rose;And they have known the interstellar night,And they have lain at root of sightless flowr'sIn worlds without a sun, or at the heartOf monstrous-eyed and panting flow'rs of flesh,Or aeon-blooming amaranths of stone;And they have ministered within the brainsOf sages and magicians, and have servedTo swell the pulse of kings or conquerors,And have been privy to the hearts of queens.
The Ghoul turns his back on the Seraph, and moves away singing.
THE SONGO condor, keep thy mountain-ways,Above the long Andean lands!Gier-eagle, guard the eastern sands.Where the forsaken camel strays!Beetle and worm and I will wardThe feastful graves of lout and lord.
O, warm and bright the blood that lies.Upon the wounded lion's trail!Hyena, laugh, and jackal, wailAnd ring him round, who turns and dies!
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