When earthly homes are tombed in dust, And Life forsakes geotic shoals; When midst the tombs of penetence, When coffins damp, and slimmy clay, Each Lordly Helm is tossed in trust To spiral vaults from plasmic holes, Convolving cyclones spin him hence As agate torches light his way. Unmutteréd sighs teem in the air As structural stars pass him by, And twisting clouds shape eerie forms Until he reaches Satan's home. Unholy visions curse and swear, Gyte vypers lull each demon's sigh, Giant Dragons whom no Remorse storms, Shake fists at opals in a dome. And Cesspools vext with odours strong From stifling shard and putrid dung, 'Mid caverns large and Cauldrons deep, Vile squats in teeming pewter burn; And shrieking vypers wield a prong Above a monster, quarter'd hung. The Tasmanian Devils keep The sod turn'd in a gyre's urn That no lost soul can undulate: Hence seers and sages, tossed in sin, Rant rubics to each reigning king, Each glowing pyre is fed with oil By afreets reared on bottled hate; Infernal tapers light this Inn As poisoned vapours to us cling; Re-embered beacons on this soil Flare spastic shadows to each tomb. In vain we sigh for fleeing grace Within the pale of turbid dyes! In vain we look for hope, sweet rest, Within this crypt of whistling Doom! When in monastic nights of haze The battlements retard giant sighs; When marshalléd mists from out the West Cloak ramparts black with ughly light, A rubic Soldan rakes each ghaut, Each sleeping vandal, imp and soul. No astral eyes laugh from these skies, No nightingales sing in the night; A dungeoned curse that villains wrought Rasp each eternal vault and shoal. Then one-eyed mongrels split the dyes Of roaring winds and raging storms, Dim shapes flee to the haunts of gore,-- Each Cyclopean Dragon's goal! And groaning cries from maidens fair Is heard by spectral, gangrel forms,-- The writhing thin is flayed some more! Its secret sins,--Black deeds of Soul-- Is scourged as copper-burnished hair Hangs from her alabaster head, Both feet and arms are screwed till black-- A sign that Hell reigns on, unstunned. Then incense swung by priestesses, Salute the newly, plunder'd dead, The bloody sight upon the wrack, Where cringing groans once rose unsummed, Is cover'd by the murderess.