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THE HASHISH-EATER
And Demogorgons of the outer dark,Arising, shout with multitudinous thunders,And threatening me with dooms ineffableIn words whereat the heavens leap to flame,Advance on the magic palace! Thrown before,For league on league, their blasting shadows blightAnd eat like fire the amaranthine meads,Leaving an ashen desert! In the palace,I hear the apes of marble shriek and howl,And all the women-shapen columns moan,Babbling with unknown terror. In my fear,A monstrous dread unnamed in any hell,I rise, and flee with the fleeing wind for wings,And in a trice the magic palace reels,And spiring to a single tow'r of flame,Goes out, and leaves nor shard nor ember! FlownBeyond the world, beyond that fleeing wind,I reach the gulf's irrespirable verge,Where fails the strongest storm for breath and fall,Supportless, through the nadir-plungèd gloom,Beyond the scope and vision of the sun,To other skies and systems. In a worldDeep-wooded with the multi-coloured fungi,That soar to semblance of fantastic palms,I fall as falls the meteor-stone, and breakA score of trunks to powder. All unhurt,I rise, and through the illimitable woods,Among the trees of flimsy opal, roam,And see their tops that clamber, hour by hour,To touch the suns of iris. Things unseen,Whose charnel breath informs the tideless airWith spreading pools of fetor, follow meElusive past the ever-changing palms;And pittering moths, with wide and ashen wings,Flit on before, and insects ember-hued,Descending, hurtle through the gorgeous gloom,And quench themselves in crumbling thickets. HeardFar-off, the gong-like roar of beasts unknownResounds at measured intervals of time,
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