Here mute and helpless gasp’d;—but, as they died, Look’d horrible vengeance with their eyes’ last strain, And clench’d the slack’ning hand at him in vain. Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare, The stony look of horror and despair, Which some of these expiring victims cast Upon their souls’ tormentor to the last;— Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now rais’d, Show’d them, as in death’s agony they gazed, Not the long promis’d light, the brow, whose beaming Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming, But features horribler than Hell e’er trac’d On its own brood;—no Demon of the Waste,[146] No church-yard Ghole, caught lingering in the light Of the blest sun, e’er blasted human sight With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those The’ Impostor, now in grinning mockery, shows:— “There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star— “Ye _would_ be dupes and victims, and ye _are_. “Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill “Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? “Swear that the burning death ye feel within “Is but the trance with which Heaven’s joys begin; “That this foul visage, foul as e’er disgrac’d “Even monstrous man, is—after God’s own taste; “And that—but see!—ere I have half-way said “My greetings through, the’ uncourteous souls are fled. “Farewell, sweet spirits! not in vain ye die, “If EBLIS loves you half so well as I.— “Ha, my young bride!—’tis well—take thou thy seat; “Nay come—no shuddering—didst thou never meet “The dead before?—they grac’d our wedding, sweet; “And these, my guests to-night, have brimm’d so true “Their parting cups, that _thou_ shalt pledge one too. “But—how is this?—all empty? all drunk up? “Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, “Young bride,—yet stay—one precious drop remains, “Enough to warm a gentle Priestess’ veins;— “Here, drink—and should thy lover’s conquering arms “Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, “Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, “And I’ll forgive my haughty rival’s bliss!