Upon his couch the Veil’d MOKANNA lay, While lamps around—not such as lend their ray, Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray In holy KOOM,[48] or MECCA’S dim arcades,— But brilliant, soft, such lights as lovely maids Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow Upon his mystic Veil’s white glittering flow. Beside him, ’stead of beads and books of prayer, Which the world fondly thought he mus’d on there, Stood vases, fill’d with KISHMEE’S[49] golden wine, And the red weepings of the SHIRAZ vine; Of which his curtain’d lips full many a draught Took zealously, as if each drop they quaff’d, Like ZEMZEM’S Spring of Holiness,[50] had power To freshen the soul’s virtues into flower! And still he drank and ponder’d—nor could see The’ approaching maid, so deep his reverie; At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke From EBLIS at the Fall of Man, he spoke:— “Yes, ye vile race, for hell’s amusement given, “Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with heaven; “God’s images, forsooth!—such gods as he “Whom INDIA serves, the monkey deity;—[51] “Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay, “To whom if LUCIFER, as grandams say, “Refus’d, though at the forfeit of heaven’s light, “To bend in worship, LUCIFER was right!—[52] “Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck “Of your foul race, and without fear or check, “Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame, “My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man’s name! “Soon at the head of myriads, blind and fierce “As hooded falcons, through the universe “I’ll sweep my dark’ning, desolating way, “Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey! “Ye wise, ye learn’d, who grope your dull way on “By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone, “Like superstitious thieves, who think the light “From dead men’s marrow guides them best at night—[53] “Ye shall have honours—wealth,—yes, Sages, yes— “I know, grave fools, your wisdom’s nothingness; “Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere, “But a gilt stick, a bawble blinds it here. “How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, “In lying speech, and still more lying song, “By these learn’d slaves, the meanest of the throng; “Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small, “A sceptre’s puny point can wield it all!