A Cesspool vext with leprous stench And oils--A sign that spells a curse! Visioned with Temples' diamonds bright In domes as guide to those whose cry Of fear, sprung from a wench's bench, Lure all to this strange shore, adverse To moonlit skies. By the ghaut's light, (Ten-thousand furlongs wide and high) The gaud, spun from sorcerers' art, Reveals its part unto each soul-- Imperishable signs of groans That time nor cyclones can eschew. No lulling lanes point to a mart, No tidings good their billows roll; In fretful haunts where Sorrow moans, Swarm souls in Penance's rasping pew: Disastrous sights of Torture's dome! Red-embered coals that burn their feet! And reeking pools, vile with odours, Make monstrous this blood-crimson vale. Where demon-lovers chew a bone As men and women choak in heat, And blood-veinéd sights writhe in vapours-- Eternal shadows in each gale! To groves where stiliness sat supreme, Flee seers in quest of lagging rest; To regions where giant echos roar, Haste begotten sons in this lair: There man-born wrecks lie down and dream Of sea-winds that foam-billows bless'd, Of auric realms where censers pour Violaceous fumes thro' the air. And in the deep-hued depths of gore, (Blind bowels in Betelguese's hold) Gyte vandals that a Dragon bore Sleep with one eye as Midnight rules These sons of Circe whom pyres adore; Their thoughts vie with the luring fold, Each sleepless orb glares like a boar-- Infernal hounds of shambling ghouls! Porphyry mounts where crystals glare-- Twin carcants strung on idols' thighs Whereon stones, blaze like fire bright, And moonstones add their silver sheen, A Circean draught, boiled in the air, Is poured on cippus where Set lies; Where vanquished Soldans sleep each night, A greenish fungus-torch doth gleam. Giant battles have been fought in hell, Principalities rot in dust, The tombs of kings speak of the past When Incubi reigned with a rod. Unnumberéd bones adorn each dell-- Where Rulers lie there stands a bust; Blood-stainéd the hands of him whose task Is blasting varlets like a god. And when some spirit stalks thro' space In quest of vaults--Temporal lees! Treads in the grandeur of dank hell, A batter'd shape that shakes its frame, Spacious regions Courage chase, Winds drive it to Misery's seas, Laughs ascend from sequesteréd well, Thro' shadows vague it hears its shame. And tomb-thrown groans and sighs we hear-- Tho' midnight's near and afrite's sleep: An Owl, perturbéd at some strange sound, Scares bats in space and wings for domes. All signs of woe hath flown with fear, No maidens heave their breasts and weep, All wrecks of Flesh lie on the ground, Removed from shoals where Terror moans. On skulls that some in Death hath left, Croak toads to lizards in a well; In cajons that the Ancient's digged, Swim snakes that hiss at burning oils: