Chapter VI

Thus Mountfort died. Of Carcassonne
Our Lady 'twas who aimed the stone,
That slew this monster that was master:--
For I--I was the instrument,
Saint Dominick and Innocent,
That hurled on you and yours disaster!
Two armies saw me whirl the sling
While Heaven stood by me--white of wing.

THE SLAVE

He waited till within her tower
Her taper signalled him the hour.

He was a prince both fair and brave.
What hope that he would love _her_ slave!

He of the Persian dynasty;
And she a Queen of Araby!--

No Peri singing to a star
Upon the sea were lovelier.

I helped her drop the silken rope.
He clomb, aflame with love and hope.

I drew the dagger from my gown
And cut the ladder, leaning down.

Oh, wild his face, and wild the fall:
Her face was wilder than them all.

I heard her cry, I heard him groan,
And stood as merciless as stone.

The eunuchs came: fierce scimitars
Stirred in the torch-lit corridors.

She spoke like one who prays in sleep,
And bade me strike or she would leap.

I bade her leap; the time was short;
And kept the dagger for my heart.

She leapt. I put their blades aside
And smiling in their faces--died.

THE ROSICRUCIAN

I

The tripod flared with a purple spark,
And the mist hung emerald in the dark:
Now he stooped to the lilac flame
Over the glare of the amber embers,
Thrice to utter no earthly name;
Thrice, like a mind that half remembers;
Bathing his face in the magic mist
Where the brilliance burned like an amethyst.

II

"Sylph, whose soul was born of mine,
Born of the love that made me thine,
Once more flash on the flesh! Again
Be the loved caresses taken!
Lip to lip let our mouths remain!--
Here in the circle of sense, awaken!
Ere spirit meets spirit, the flesh laid by,
Let me know thee, and let me die!"

III

Sunset heavens may burn, but never
Know such splendor! There bloomed an ever
Opaline orb, where the sylphid rose
A shape of luminous white; diviner
White than the essence of light that sows
The moons and suns through space; and finer
Than radiance born of a shooting-star,
Or the wild Aurora that streams afar.

IV

"Look on the face of the soul to whom
Thou givest thy soul like added perfume!
Thou, who heard'st me, who long had prayed,
Waiting alone at evening's portal!--
Thus on thy lips let my lips be laid,
Love, who hast made me all immortal!
Give me thine arms now! Come and rest
Happiness out on my beaming breast!"