Saturday, 19 September 2009

THE VEIL OF EDEN - Part seven


Part VII - The Holy Place


And thus the tragedy is revealed:
Vir puris cunni - Adam's shield
That shineth golden, from afar
To light the darkness as a star.


Cometh, yea! above all this
Lies thy destiny. Thou hast seen
The sacred sword that lies between
Thine Angel and thine Abyss.
Goeth unto the realm of light
And kiss the apex of the night!


And by thrice moons was Eden rent
Of manhood's self-slain element!


Eve, fair Eve, be thou not afraid
Of God's cruel wonder - night and day
Where sin and shame in the same shade play.
Oft' I hath seen its beauty laid
Upon a tear-stained marble mount
Within the sanctuary of unrest;
Where forest beasts lie breast to breast
And taste of knowledge from the fount
Of life and death. But tremble not
At the sword of light I wield,
For hath I not this golden shield
To reflect the agony of Eden's rot?
And changed, thus far, I must retreat
Unto the dark forest, and there find
A love that be not of thy kind
That gives mine flesh to comforts, great.

Eve, fair Eve, knowest I loved thee,
Yet now, cannot I, my sweet, conceive
How born of Adam's rib, my Eve
Should'st be so blind she cannot see
That God, in all His grace, that blessed
And gaveth man breath, created pure,
Should'st fasten woman to some fleshy core
And wake the elements from their rest.
O dark this love, and of God's flock
Hath come by different waters, gay;
Hath wished the gentleness away
And sought the pains thou did'st unlock.


O Adam, weep not for thy sighing,
O Adam, curse not the unknown night,
For I see the day upon thee dying
And darkness where there once was light...


Hush! for the ache of flesh is pain:
I desire mine maker's hands again!


O Adam, I hath long here dwelt
And known thy pains and always felt
That what thou seekest is wrong by God:
Thou treadest not the path He trod!
I fear for thee and almost wish
Thou had'st thy way with eager flesh,
For I cannot giveth, all ye seek:
I cannot offer shame my cheek
And lie with sin. O what thou art
Hast wounded me within mine heart.


O Eve, fair Eve, I am strong, yet weak,
Thou hast all within thee that I seek,
Yet I asketh thee not, for truth it be,
Mine body will not yield to thee.
And I am cursed to walk alone;
To shame myself before God's throne.
As mortal to immortal, met
To find His liquid gaze is set
Upon the flesh that breadeth shame:
Upon the body without name.
This in mine heart, shalt not be moved
Till unalterable love is found and loved!
I must away to solitude
And retreateth from this painful mood
And give mine lusts a stronger bough
To shelter fancy's fear of now.
For I hath buried the lone star of desire
Deep in the whiteness of the snow;
I hath felt its burning light expire
In sorcery, and sleepless, I go
Unto the sword of Liberty's light. I give
All that I hath that I may live!


And Adam was wrought with lust
And rage and sickness,
For the sweet perfume and
The darkling caress.
And great citadels of shame were his
Shadows erect in the Abyss.
Yet what untold horrors lie in wait
For Adam on the path of fate?


O fate, draw back thy bow
And sing, sing long thy virtuous note
That purity's thought cannot know
For thou art ever concealed and remote.
In thy bleak simplicity - tremble
And let thine arrows pierce
Unto man's universe and dissemble
With actions subtle, swift and fierce.
Break the harmony that is sorrow,
Go, go with thy lustre, look
On man's dawn and man's tomorrow
Where thine arrows hath with beauty struck
The chambers of his dim lit reign.
Here be sadness, for the bud
Of spring rejoiceth long in pain -
Thy rose hath drowned in brotherhood!


O mother earth, what pains I see
To carry this dread misery
That in me burns both day and night -
Lust, in all its colours, bright!
And in seasons pass, I alone:
Would'st to God mine heart were stone!
I lie in fate and lie with truth
For stars of Heaven be my roof
As onward unto welcome breast
Is my perfection and my rest;
Where strong arms gently fold around
The limitless wonders they hath found;
To feel the ache of thighs caressed,
Kissed by lips that hath never kissed.


O see the sun upon thee frame
The flowered passion of thy name.
This, thy music serves thee well
Before the throne of Raphael.
This, thy guiding light of Hell
Before the throne of Michael.
This, thy sufferings that doth swell
Before the throne of Gabriel.
This, thy heartache that doth tell
Before the throne of Uriel.


'Tis myself grown dim, for I am dust,
Cursed by the ache of brotherhood's breast:
Wine be mine poison, bread be mine shame
And burn the flesh of sin with flame!


What devil this of thy construction?
Let nature's course, divine, compete -
To lie with death is thy destruction:
Thou must tasteth the bitter and the sweet!
Thy downfall? Never! thou art uplifted
Unto the rose of God, divine.
The scent of greatness, here hath drifted:
Speaketh not of bread nor wine.


And his skin that longs for love anew
Shalt weary where desire breaks through,
And Adam in his loneliness
Shalt reflect on his lost gentleness.
But he is young and unafraid
Of what the Gods upon him laid -
The fear of man, the weight of God
That strikes night with His blasting rod.
Break Adam, break, all concentred hate
For thy flesh and for thy fate.


In fields of Eden will I dream
The hands that built me, slew me.
Through this foul sleep, I resteth not
Mine dark seed - O how art
Thou sighing for brotherhood...sighing!


Pity not ye man of sighing
For the old moon that is dying.
This thy Kingdom thou hast won:
Be strong! thus thine will be done!


Mine womb be as the desert sands
Scorched by an everlasting sun;
Mine garden foldeth in mine hands:
No rose on the horizon!
Yet mine womb doth sing, though barren be,
For 'tis half the fruit of humanity.
Yea! life upon the earth - awake!
To beauty, to mine child - the snake!



On Eden's veil did'st man caress
The splendour of his nakedness.
The wine of life was his true goal;
The crushing arrows of his soul,
And that which stained God's pure creation
Was Hell's thrice-formed abomination.
For love had'st soughtest he the most:
His desire for the Holy Ghost.
His sword thrust to the heart of reason -
Thus was man's fall Eden's treason.
And faith in liberty and in light
Crowned by the dyad of the night.
Yet freedom cameth from afar,
Beyond the radiating star
That giveth truth unto the soul;
That giveth will to what we are!
And so in many splendid ways
Did'st man desireth of its rays
To light the Kingly regions, dim
O'ershadowed by the seraphim,
Who keepeth the secret of the fire,
Saddled with its strange desire -
But man is born to seek new things
In his earthly wanderings.
And now that man hath been ordained
Unto the highest sanctuary,
Let splendour in his heart be framed
By Love and Light and Liberty!
For he hath crossed that great divide
That separateth God from man;
He hath distilled pure from the void -
The universal organ!
Speech shalt flameth that within
And destroyeth that which lies without;
His noble brow shalt look on sin
With no shame, no fear and no doubt!


Looketh! see how man hurries in
To see his evil seedlings sprout!

The End.



Part VI - How The Whore Was Saved And Won

Lilith, on Her mighty air
Hath led the way through darkness, where
She lay Her flesh and cast Her spell
And showed man mortal, lusts of Hell.
In dream, spoke She unto the son
To show the Whore both saved and won.
And She sang of the mysteries that unite
The eternal darkness and the light.
For the Lord of Night sits oft' astride
The infernal sadness of His bride
And blasphemes nature with His lust
To abide with devils and with dust.
His bride, the Whore, sick to Her breast
Found no ease in sleep nor rest,
Till one night, in the leafy shade
Came footsteps nearer, unafraid,
For 'twas the Lord of Day, that came
To witness Night with Whore in shame.
And in Day's hand a mighty sword
Was drawn and raised without a word;
'Twas thrust into the heart of Night,
Thrust with all His regal might
That split the Lord of Night in twain -
From head to toe, the Night was slain!
And as the thunder clouds rolled by
The Lord of Day looked to the sky,
While Whore sang sweet beneath the beast
Of Night, to gaze on Her saviour priest.
And She rose and danced and kissed His feet
With gentle kisses that were sweet.


My Lord, my Lord, this very night,
Day hath turned my darkness light!
I who loved each maid and man
With all the skill of an artisan;
I who conjured man from boy
And dashed his dreaming with a sigh,
For 'twas the love that carried me
Into the doomed realms of devilry.

Lord Of Day:

Thou art the harlet of the world, it's Whore;
The fount of all splendour to adore!
Tho were shameless before all men,
Returned to shame and shame again.
Through the spring and summer air
Did'st thou in thy purple, perfumed lair
Stain with blasphemies, thy cup
And bid the goat god drink it up!
Autumn, winter, came and went
And still thou stolest thy sacrement.


O how mine womb sings in the night
Sweet songs of love and songs of fright!
For I am but an instrument of man's desire,
And man is but a stringed bow to my fire.

Lord Of Day:

O, my thrice-blessed daughter of Hell
That hath sighed through aeons...I cannot tell
Why my path hath led me here
In priestly mock that's thread with fear.
For I gaze upon thy limbs that wrought
Joy to life and death, unsought.
And I ache with passions, born anew,
For thou see'st, I am but mortal too!
And here, beside the Night in twain,
He of dark appetites and of pain,
I hunger thine unamed caress
That foldeth fear within thy kiss.
O harpy of infinitesimal lust,
Thy body is as dust and dung;
A chariot of disgust that must
Wield by magic, thy foul tongue.
Crescent form and lissome limbed:
Thou hast seen the bloom of midnight dimmed!


Nay my Lord, for see, I blush.

Lord Of Day:

How I long to hold thee near, and crush
Thy soft bruised flesh, and kiss it sweet,
And feel thine heart upon mine beat.
For 'tis madness that within me lies
And yearns to thine cup that destroys.


I see thine passions runneth deep:
Thine sting of holiness doth sleep!
Mine change was swift - see how it turns
Unto Whoredom's grip that burns!
My breasts are ripe with motherhood
Where beauty's flame hath flickered in;
Veiled with roses and with blood:
I hath long been the Queen of Sin!
Mine limbs doth ache, mine heart be tired;
Mine flesh is soft, yet weak and sore.
Flames of passion hath I fired
In this sacred vessel known as Whore!
Beggar, Prince, wench and King -
To all hath I sworn my lusts to sing!
By streams hath I lain with beast and brute;
To poets, strummed soft on lyre and lute.
In chambers hath I soiled with bliss
Mankind's threefold consciousness
That unlocked the gates that case the womb
To reveal the glories of the tomb.
A flower, cursed and midnight, dead,
By morn shall resteth on his head.
With flames I coil and weep and sing
To the ecstasy of lust's everlasting spring.
But I see thou art cold to nocturnal pain;
Those tongues of fear hath dulled thy brain,
Yet wine is sweet! My Lord, cometh near,
Be ye not afraid of regions drear,
And when next thou see'st the sun goeth down
Thou shalt bear the sceptre and the crown!


Child of thy bowel, the war is near won:
See'st how the moon lookest to the sun!


And the Lord of Day remained all night
In the arms of Whoredom, painted white
As the pure snow driven, soft and deep
Upon abominations that will not sleep.


O my Lord, how art thou weak;
How art thou senseless in thy reign.
Thou hast planted wisdom on mine cheek,
I hath invoked horror in thy brain,
And defiled the holy seed of man
To bronze his passion in the womb
And sin unto the Holy Lamb.
Yea! I hath sheathed his purple plume
In depths unutterable, till it blooms
Where rose and lily fold as one.
And limbs are still in crimson tombs
Now the dark God's work's near done!
But hush, dost thou not hear mine womb burst
Into song, now quenched of thirst?


Harketh! dost thou hearest the moan of Hell
Rise in triumphant madrigal?


It be the solar rays of light:
It be the lunar washed of white!


I am the horror of thy bowel;
I am the obscene whorings, come
By fragrances both fair and foul,
For I am corruption and the sum
Of man's extension into shame,
That shall by fear and bliss, enflame
Thy brain, by copulation's bud
And disintegrate thy nakedness
And giveth thee to brotherhood
In the excreta of excess!

THE VEIL OF EDEN - Part five


Part V - The Angel And The Abyss

Shall the lie of God be told;
Shall His mysteries unfold
And swell thy bosom to victory
That thou hast sipped of His glory?
And this be rapture in thy brain;
This be thy star, risen and slain
And risen, once more into light
That once was darkness of the night.
That once was far beyond thee, cast
Into the formless void, so vast,
For 'twas the wrappings of the tomb;
Thine pasture of nocturnal gloom
That leads thee here. What visions tell
Why thy lusts are darkness, drawn from Hell;
Thy lie of madness and desire -
Thy penetrating star of fire?
Thou hast slipped thy fetters, see them fall
And unto thine own Angel, call.
Thy bondage broken by a kiss;
Thy liberty strong in rapture's bliss.
Ah, but what hath made thee so?
What pause in thy eternal ring
Hath brought misfortune's silver sling
And dealt thy heart a mighty blow?


Draw back thy flesh;
Hold back thy veil:
Hail! unto thine Angel, hail!


Speaketh monster!


I magnify man's little sorrows
Into steps of doom;
I bringeth the Abyss, that swallows
Thy radiant bloom.

In this thy park of discontent,
Ever at thy side
Was thine Angel - thy sacrament
Of fire, long denied.

Thou art risen on the wings of fate
That leadeth ye aright.
O sire! be not ye desolate
And forsaken in mine sight,

For thou walketh as a god, new-born
In thy robe, aflame;
Thou art glorious in the distant dawn
In thy crown of shame!

I sing of thine own sweet embraces
That in thine heart doth grow;
For 'twas in those wild abandoned places -
There I loved ye so!


Thou hast seen thine opposite attract
Itself to thee in every act.
Thou hast glimpsed thy birthright, from afar:
Thy flame-flecked wisdom of the star!


Hail! unto thine Angel, hail!


Thou cometh swift from restless sleep
Into casms, dark and deep.
But lo! thine Angel, more must speak,
Soft and low - 'tis very weak!


Hail! unto thine Angel, hail!


If in sleep thou dreamest, I come to thee
In love's unfolding of the unseen,
Be ye ever a sun that burns, serene,
To die in the arms of eternity...


Hear ye Adam! these words are gold
Rushing through thy veins! Unhold
Thy feared forebodings, be as one:
Dimensionless unto the sun!
Here, the inhabitant of the Abyss
Summons ye to its nothingness!

The Dweller Of The Abyss:

Adam, Adam, come, not linger,
Come with Royal lips aflame;
Fear not the song, thou art the singer
Robed and crowned in Adam's name.

Adam, Adam, there be sweet joy
In all thou givest unto love:
Joy be the heart of man and boy
That sings thy praises from above.

Adam, Adam, fruit of God's labour,
Thou art not condemned by God;
Loveth thyself and damn thy neighbour;
Maketh madness thy method!

Adam, Adam, breathe salvation,
Redeem the urges of the beasts
That elevate their jubilation
In sacred rites and forest feasts.

Adam, Adam, raise thyself up
And seekest thou swift brotherhood,
In damnation and the cup
That thou hast drained dry of its blood!

Adam, Adam, fear not thy shame,
Fear not the wind that carries thee
Into strange places, thou art the flame
Of fortune and of sorcery.

Adam, Adam, thy flesh is bold;
Thine heart hast run its course of lust.
A mirror of thyself, behold,
Is what thou seekest in the dust!

Adam, Adam, hide not thy tears
For this sweetness, come to pass;
Thine is the Kingdom that ye steers
'Twixt thine Angel and Abyss!


Ah! 'tis like a broken bone
That love disgraced, before it fell
To find its roots are firm in Hell,
Where two mortal souls are thrown.
For the great adulteress hath begun
The unison of the moon and sun,
And its fulfilment shalt be done:
Hark! how the whore was saved and won!

THE VEIL OF EDEN - Part four


Part IV - The Blossom And The Sigh

From this holy place I go
Unto a wilderness unknown;
Unto a place where love, outgrown,
Lies barren, for it cannot grow.
Here, the spirit of silent birth
Hath thundered long unto the sea,
And virtue thrown to devilry
Is all that purity is worth.
For upon this world mankind doth tread
'Twixt an everlasting faint dimension
And things beyond man's comprehension;
Beyond the living and the dead.
Yet what bright moon on the horizon
Will sail the oracles of space
And revealeth love's eternal face?
In measure met - all things are one,
The Lord of Life hath wished it so;
For He gaveth man his opposite,
His dual expression - black and white.
And time and spasmodic change shall flow
As the body yields to spring passions
And there, breathe life - it breatheth yet,
Strong by nature's calling, set
Into a robe of dreams - man's visions
Are life's rememberance of the dead.
The stars are sown, the torn veil rent
And the Host of the Heavenly sacrament
Fell tearful at man's side and said:
Enough of unholiness and of death,
For all that liveth in vain, shalt sing
Of life's beauty over everything!
Thus, the great lie of man, beneath
The starry sadness of Heaven, drawn
Unto soft whisperings that revealed
Nothing in joy is twice concealed
By woman, at her darkling dawn.
And time wilt cease for moonlight priests
At the extinguishing of the light,
For darkness be their God of might;
A continual conjuring of strange beasts
That come, by Royal sacrifice
To trample hooves in tribal dust;
To work their foul alluring lust
And in the madness found - rejoice.
On the Holy mount shalt man seek
The glory of his radiant star
That hath retreated, and gone far
From the ceremonies of the meek.
Here shalt corpses come to lie -
The glory of our loved dead:
Every one a good man's head
Unstirred by the blossom and the sigh!
And God hath cast thy fortunes great
Into scented halls of hate;
This be thy mannequin of woe
For the elements hath found ye so
Rich in joy on wings of sadness:
Thou art sent scrying into madness!
And with thine new-found love, retrace
Thine footsteps to the Holy place
And supplicate thine self in prayer!


But soft! here I invoketh to thee - Air!


I am loud and silent: I am Air;
I am the words of war and prayer,
On streams to carry love and hate
Drawn from hearts both small and great!
And I am flattery which is joy;
I am thy breath, I am thy sigh.
And I make tempests of thy bones
When mine rough winds upon thee moans.
Within, without, I am the storm
Of change, thy progress without form!


O carry, carry, wings of Air
Man in his boat adrift, despair;
Seeketh still man, of the higher...


Here, I invoketh to thee - Fire!


I am thine inmost: I am Fire;
I am thy flower of desire.
I am thy flickerings, set in pain:
Thine serpent of unsaintly reign!
And I bring joy and ease and love
From under the cloak of lust, I move,
Ever burning, though, thee be still -
I goeth onwards in thine thrill
Of ecstasy, that in thee be
Flames of uncontainable devilry!


O burn, burn, thy flames of Fire
Unto man's heart that doth aspire;
Thy love, thy melancholy rapture...


Here, I invoketh to thee - Water!


I am thine thought: I am Water;
Thy mother, thy bride, thy Holy daughter.
I am thy wanderings that resteth not;
Thine river that ever disturbs thy lot!
And I am the flow of fate, foresee
Thine own miracle of thy destiny.
And I be calm and showeth the moon
Or whipped by tempest and typhoon
That turn thee swift upon thine will
Unto mine waters - magical!


O roll, roll, thy Waters sweet
Over man's brow in defeat
And strike thy pleasing chords of mirth!


Here, I invoketh to thee - Earth!


I am thine form: I am Earth;
I am thy firmament of birth!
I am thine glories and thine fear,
Slow of change, I doth appear
Dull and heavy, I confess
I am the vacuum of thy stubbornness.
I am thy surface, point and plane -
I am the laughter in thy pain.
I am thy dream of lips unmet:
Yea! I, the spectre of regret!


O fold, fold, Earth manifold,
Thy temple stones, thy bed of old
Upon man's boundless breast, and sit...


Here, I invoketh to thee - Spirit!


I am thine core: I am Spirit;
I seize thee by thy brain and will it
To mine works that centre thee;
To thine masked wonder: Liberty!
And I be stirred and moved by song
For I am the fortunes of the strong
Soul that sleeps and wakes once more:
I am thine entity to adore!
Mine kisses giveth endless joy
For they be sweetness to thy sigh.


O kiss, kiss, Spirit bliss,
The lips of man that doth caress
Passion's ardour and repents...


Here endeth the song of the elements!

THE VEIL OF EDEN - Part three


Part III - The Eye In The Sanctuary

In the phosphorescent hush of the dark wood,
Came Eve, that delicate blush of womanhood;
Her body, an ecstasy of celebration:
A temple of song that she sings of creation!
But her eyes hang sad for the veil is rent;
She weeps for she can foresee man's discontent.
And here passes the star, in its sickness, grown
Awful before the meteor that was God's throne;
Where there once was passion, dark and deep,
Radiant by night, where the light doth keep
Its vigil strong. Gone, O 'tis all gone now
Where woman walks alone and weeps unto her shadow.
Her heart a stone cast in the pit of motherhood,
Lost unto the shades where she weeps within the wood.
Thus tormented she sees things fate hast chose to be,
This be the song sweet Eve sings of man's destiny.


And having tasted of desire
She swooned at the unspeakable rites
Foretold in a vision of the higher
Realms of angels and of sprites.

Thus, her eyes drawn unto fire,
She sang as sighing satellites
Perished in the unalterable mire
Of mightier things in their delights.

Struck with beauty, sang the choir
From their heavenly heights;
But blood lust gave the great destroyer
His joy amongst the parasites.


And I saw thus blazing from the hordes,
The shining ones come forth and listen
With bloody hands clasped on mighty swords,
Upon the emerald hilts that glisten
Radiantly at their armoured sides.
These winged warriors with giant strides

Came to rest beside a stream,
The fight not lost, though their eyes told
The light had'st lost God's brilliant gleam,
For eyes were as the darkness, cold;
Like lunar lamps, and all put out
As shadows fell to unseen doubt.

And Paradise raged against God's Law
At the full rise of the sun,
Where the beauteous bankside maidens saw
The light retreateth into one.
And here were stars in the folds of sorrow
As darkness came down, thick and low.

And morning light did'st turn his head
Aloft unto God's mighty throne
And back upon the field of dead
Celestial seraphims of stone:
Come home! Come home! His pitiful voice
And all the dim stars did'st rejoice!

Our saviour crosseth on the prow,
Watched by darkness at the helm;
With names of blasphemy on His brow,
He surveyed the measure of His realm.
His broken sword aloft, He swore
To reverseth all God madeth Law!

And God's voice did'st tremble in the wind
Unto shameless sinners and the sinned:

Make why thou wilt, my brother son,
For 'tis writ that there shalt cometh one
To un-good the good that I hath done
Unto this Paradise begun.
Thy broken wings of undying hate
Are folded in combustible fate;
Where the zenith hath appeared too late
To save the Kingdom that falleth great!
Thou may'st have thy rule, thy period
Where thou may'st strut thyself a God,
But lo! as from a lightening rod
Shalt God's word find thy Kingdom shod
In filthy labourings of the dead:
A crown of thorns upon thy head
Shalt bloom no more, for it hath bled
The terrors of the tomb ye fed.


And the muse of all time sat in wonder
As dark, those ones of evil, born,
Tore the brotherhood of Light asunder,
Terrible to that scarlet dawn
Where the phoenix of the flames had'st flown
In the splendour of damnation's crown.

And within the city of soulless slaves
Were vast pyramids of corpses, lying
Skinless, shovelled into graves
Of red streams unto midnight, sighing;
Here man in fear of his true fate
Did'st pray to terrors, insensate.

And the filth of an hundred days of war
Had'st spoilt six days upon the earth;
Death's cloud did'st appear to blot the star
And violate its swift re-birth.
Iron death and scent of skin
Had'st let infernal darkness in!

From the night our master fell
And in war's wake the moon had'st turned
With fastened lips - a sunlit Hell
As victory in death's madness yearned
Unto man's cerements of fear:
Lo! the goat-foot God was here!

And man breathed fire and man breathed force
Throughout the depths of eternity,
And God revealed His unholy course
For man and woman's destiny.
And woman sighed, sealed in the tomb
For she was as blind within its gloom.

Her love, shalt creaseth to the moon
And man's unto the sun
Where he shalt sheathe his splendid plume
In sorrow's fruitless womb,
Where demon lusts slays, without pause:
Man, in the calamity of its jaws.

And love divided, conquered all,
Arose damnation on its head
That whispered softly, Eden's fall
Was thrice glimpsed and thrice blessed!
And this thy pleasaunce and thy shore
God giveth greatly to adore.

And tears shalt wash away the work
Of God whose mind cannot contain
The will to penetrate the murk
That clouds upon the human brain,
Where imagination and the dream
Be thus like fishing in the stream.

Man long betrayeth for he hath wronged
The omnipotent eye that all doth see
The myriad miscarriages, triple-tongued
In sad songs sung in serpentry.
Yet came the lone voice from afar
Curled towards that elusive star:

Hast thou seen the lion loveth the lamb?
Hast thou seen the hawk loveth the hare?
Hast thou seen the she-wolf loveth the ram?
Hast thou seen man weak in woman's snare?

And his shadow shalt darken and grow with time
Before the threshold of the dawn
That shalt awaken him to the sublime
Seeds of sorrow, upon him, born;
Unto the dying of the old year
Wilt man wait, and beauty re-appear!



Part II - The Serpent And The Sorrow

Here, I fortify the wine of disease
With my liquid tongue of blasphemies.
For I hath wrestled from the sacred bough
The true lusts of man - these seeds I sowe;
The dark dimensions, the black centuries,
Unto the wind and watch them grow!

I conjure whoredom's flickering flame
And curse the Almighty without shame.
Man, that walketh with the moon
Hayh harkened to the immortal tune
And sought the perfume, without name
That's supped by gods and all too soon

Consumed in thy cup of amethyst, drained,
Unto the end was its vile filth strained
By mortal lips. Now man hast seen
The beginning, the end and the in-between.
The cup of destruction, red-ruby stained!
The perfume of release - our Queen,

Unto Heaven's vault did'st seal
Man's disobedience and conceal
The architecture of man's fate
That strikes at the chains of inviolate
Love, for by wisdom and by zeal
Did man tire of his righteous state.

And thus possessed of gods did'st man
Tear down the lie: no mortal can
Be as a god and walk with might
And rejoiceth in the eternal light.
Yet his bosom yearned and stranger, ran
Into the sorrowful realm of regal night.

And I am the circumference of thy skin
And all that it containeth within,
For I am fashioned to thy breast
And I swim with poisonous unrest.
I am thine own sorrow and thy sin:
Thy north and south, thine east and west!

And many are mine horrors and mine name;
This legion, mirrored, be but the same
Cross of desire in darkness, falling
Unto the circle of lust's calling
Thine golden seraphimed head of shame
That sought the sanctuary. This appalling

Pyramid of thine own making
Found ye sorrow for thy taking
And this dim star, thy profile, cast,
Is mine Royal seal, for here at last
Is an apparatus re-awakening:
A man perfected of his past!

The Song Of The Serpent:

Ah! the fruit is ripe upon the bough:
Shalt desire snatch it from me now
And plant its knowledge on thy brow?

And what mystery of flesh shalt sing
When unto man falls everything?
But lo! 'tis more given when 'tis nothing!

Yea! for all of man's temptation,
The fool regreteth not his action:
This is his sorrow and salvation;

This is his rapture that is sweet,
Soft and fragrant and complete:
But when shalt man with serpent meet

And caress the dim shore of his pain
And break the rhythms of his brain
That's circled by a serpent's chain?

When this night of mitred elegance
In its fleet-footed pageant dance
Doth ache to passion's darkling glance,

That shoots through youthful veins of fear,
For here, love lingers long and drear
Before the God, Love doth revere,

Thou shalt shame thy God before thine eyes,
Thou shalt conjure His immortal cries
And damn His sacerdotal sighs!

O blow wind, yea! eternally blow
For speech and shame and sin follow
The endless summit of man's tomorrow.

But life's miracle that we dare expand,
This tortured madness of command
Hath given scope to understand

The nature of desire, that slept
Firm in thought as sadness leapt
Where the soul of Eden wept.

And thrice was beauty turned to stone,
Banished from her golden throne
To lie with lustful ways, alone.

She dreams, but nothing more than this
Hath fallen unto sleep, to kiss
The awful ache of our mistress.

And mortal unto dying breath
Shalt find a certainty in death,
That death shalt all too sooneth cometh!


I see thy wound, it runneth deep
Through the centuries of sleep;
Deep, deep, so vast and deep
In the fiery fathomless place of sleep.

This little world of man's content;
This infernal fold of past desires,
Death's rapture clings to his element:
Man unto the arm of man aspires.

Here death's feather hath weighed ye right,
And judgement manifold, thy fate
Upon the lips that kissed the night;
Lips of thine own incarnate hate.

Lips that cursed the ancient moon;
Lips of thine unspeakable hell,
Pressed to the prison of the womb
Of thine resurrecting angel.

He giveth up and giveth all,
He rejoiceth in his sad suspension
That dances, beast-like in the hall
And clings to man's incomprehension.

O come, I adore thee, come O come
While death's scent hath found release
From the pangs of falsehood's angeldom,
And the terrors, pray ye now may'st cease!


But hark! what vision of loveliness doth tread
Between the living and the dead?
What frenzy of lust doth speak its name;
What salacious mollusc, revered by shame
Doth come? Its robe cast in the mud,
Its high art a stain of womanhood,
Purple, from the fount of Hell
Like some magnificent Jezebel.
And as nature bows before our Queen;
As the elements flicker, and stir unseen
She assumes Her Royal right, anon,
And comes before us - Babalon!


Blessed be midnight, blessed be shame;
Blessed be the paps that seal my name.
Blessed be the season of desire:
Blessed the unquenchable Holy fire!
This head be death's head, reared for war,
This heart be rotten to its core.
Witch of the moon, whore of the sun:
I am the ghost bloom - Babalon!
I am thy work of silk and gold;
I am thy mysteries untold.
My lips, the claret of the moon;
My breath, the scent of sweet perfume.
My limbs as lithe as panthers, move
Through the Holy abodes of love,
For I am thy midnight jubilation:
Thy dawn, thy noon and thy dusk damnation.
My hair, a stream of lust, unending,
My body yearns to thy ascending
Light; thy palace remains unmoved -
I see it ever thus, unloved.
For I am love, cloaked in desire,
Rich and strange, I burn with fire.
And I desecrate the Holy place
And trample the contours of God's face.
I am thy tempest mind, awake
To bloodless sighings of the snake.
I bear the cup of fornication
That gives thee sweet intoxication.
I, the Queen, who doth assume
Thy purple passions, to illume
Thy body, levelled in the tomb,
Clung to the flower of my womb.
Thou did'st seekest, yet I was found not
In those shapes of shade that rot
Thy hungering, for doth not ye see:
I hath always dwelt in the heart of thee;
Since virgin, thy initial breath
Smote the catacombs of death
And drew forth thine eyes unto the sun,
Ye whispered one word - Babalon!


And through the intricacies of sleep
Doth Babalon in Her whoredom, creep,
To rise on smoke, foul of the air,
Her teeth fixed firm on flesh, to tear
The heart of man, from out his breast,
Softened to Her glance, caressed
By slender hands that woo with lust
And grind the humble into dust.
O star! my litany of desire,
Desolate in seduction's mire
To see thy nakedness crowned with gold
Upon Love's altar, where of old
Did'st Babalon cherish unto death,
The ache of man that lies beneath
The splendour wrapt, the sapphire tomb
Of virtue veiled deep in Love's gloom.


O desirable man, I give thee rest
From thy hierophantic quest;
I warm thy flesh and give thee ease,
Trimmed in the wrappings of disease,
Where nothing moves, nor shall it stir
The masked sentinels of sleep and fear.


Animal-sighing - we are all dark now
As man passes into that which he cannot know!



O long ago, long ago, did I dream
That I had wings and a joyous heart,
And I sang sweet songs over hills that roam,
Of undying love and the eternal star.
Sang as my soul in soft moonlight
Found glorious things in everything,
And rejoiced in the wonder of day and night.
But now the deep echo of my regret
Leaves only my heart to hang and long
For that far twilight where dreams are met
And the heart that's empty of its song...
O pity me, I pray, these, my misgivings:
God love me, and give me back my heart!
God love me, and give me back my wings!

Part I - The Flower And The Madness

This, our cosmic stage of sorrow,
This our curtain, lifteth up!
Lift up the veil and therein follow
The glories of love's zenith cup!

Through the celestial realm of night
That overthroweth day,
Stars were magical and bright
In their dumb decay.

And planets shook to music's mode
By the gods that reach
Through infinite space and abode,
Masterful in speech.

And the song of ecstasy was born
To the lips of our goddess.
Yea! her bosom's splendour - dawn,
Sighed with love's madness.

With darkness was her hair aflame
With diamonds and with pearls,
That glittered ceaseless, to her name,
Hung soft in shaken curls.

But cameth whisperings in halls
As some sick phantom stirred,
For 'tis the veil of Eden falls
At his whispered word.

And all the stars were pale and rent
Of light in darkness now;
Those fixed points in the firmament
Wept long in love's sorrow.

See! we are but moonbeams cast
Upon some ruinous river
That sweeps beyond the starry vast
Lie of God, for ever.

Be life not such a delicate bloom
Of gentleness and sighing,
For thou art fragrant in the tomb
Of the old god, dying.

Quick! with thy mortal hands
Break the chain - restriction,
And raise thyself up, love demands
Thou art the resurrection!


Strike! strike! the chain that binds


Thy body beautiful unwinds


Into regions of re-birth


Unto pleasures of the earth!


Here, sickness in Eden falls


Into dark extended halls.


Would'st thou be saddled with the fear


That wrappeth round thy manly spear


And gives thy sister thought to thirst


Damnation's hunger? Thou accursed


Universal Lord of lies,


Man's spirit, hearest, Thou denies!


Strike! Strike! the chain that binds
Thy body beautiful unwinds
Into regions of re-birth;
Unto pleasures of the earth!
For man hath tired, man's brain is bent
Upon the veil of Eden, rent!


Come, not when the moon is lying
Low upon thy prow;
Come, not when the rose is sighing
Sweet upon thy brow.

Come, by the bud of thy perfection,
Not in thy despair;
Here be the bloom of thy redemption:
Thy synagogue of prayer.

For in the words that we remember
Upon our altar - dawn,
We praise the light and praise its keeper
Worshipped by the morn.

This sword thrust deep into thy side
Wills midnight's work be done.
Thy wound a token for thy bride
That hast sighed long for devildom.

Come! Come! and see thy world
And be not overcome
By the treachery unfurled
On thy brave bosom, numb!

And this thy origin revealed,
And this thy regal right,
For thou art sworn to sword and shield
And to thy crown of light.

Phoenix rise ye, onward, on
Into the void of flame
Where death is sweet and calls upon
Dread Baphomet, by name:

To call upon the ghost of love
And unto its shade sing,
Great prophecies shalt love's ghost prove
By this immortal ring!

The Ghost Of Love:

I am Love, disfigured, and I bring
Thee tales of misery - my shame,
For love destroyeth everything
That falleth in its name!

And what sick fruit from Eden's bowel
Hath nursed thy pains? O man,
What plagues within thy garden, prowl
And speaketh of salvation?

What cometh when the rose of knowing
Dieth in thy hand?
It is thine own self, ever growing
In thy wisdom, to expand

Thy flesh of sorrow, that here yearneth
With passions that hath bred
The rot within ye; the core that burneth
Unto the soul that's dead.

Yea! sayeth of the flower, I,
Ye crusheth in thy fate:
That which is born, is born to die
With lusts immaculate!


See ye how the dye is cast


Man's body, beautiful, hath passed


From its sufferings, from its woe


And thus must into silence go,


Into the charnel-house of truth


The womb of wisdom be his proof!


Thy body through the pylon, passed
And thy death was sweet,
Ye are but as sepulchral dust
Of death beneath mine feet.


Let thy flower, lust unfold
Unto the timeless gods of old.
Slain, thy horror shall foretell
What moveth in thee be not Hell.

And lips incarnate of desire
Shall burn with subtle flames of fire.
And thy crown that sleepeth - tragedy,
Shall give untold delights to thee!

O child of beauty and of chaos;
Child that singeth the song of madness,
Thou art impenetrable in thy tomb
To crush the flower of its bloom.

And ye shall sing unto the world
Of thy strange enchantment, curled
From the portal of Eden's dream,
Beyond thy chrysalis, extreme!

But thy season be not over yet,
Thy rose-cupped beauty, thy coronet
Still aches for womanhood and her charm
That can breedeth upon thee man, much harm!


Ah, I see man's heart anew;
I see his immeasurable soul shine through
The fragrant portal of decay,
Where virgin lips hath kissed the day!

And this be sorrow for he knows,
This be the madness of the rose
That unfurls to taste the golden dew:
The spring of man's heart born anew.

Closer, ye not fear the morn
Of thy tender soul, re-drawn
Into a world that is thy making
And thy sufferings, awakening.

Give! Give all! and thou shalt know
Why God feared give ye knowledge so;
For there be sadness in wisdom's joys
When innocence falleth down, and dies.

Ah, but what of woman, sayest
Hath she not her part to playest?
Hath not the organism of man's lust
Crumbled before his eyes? I trust

Ye see'st the sickness of dimension,
Changed by form into corrosion,
Capable of supernal things
Is man, free from woman's wings.

And these be secrets to unfold
When thou redeemest the world of old:
What brute-beast comes in exultation
At damnation's arrival? - Man!


And the creatures of the wood did sing
In each its special voice of God,
Turned with angered hearts, to sting
The folly of fallen Eden, trod
With madness, in the mire of sin -
Thus, the tragedy within!


O things of sorrow, O things of mirth,
Silent, is thy freedom cast
Into the abysses of the earth,
On this, our triumphant hour, past
Into glories that displeaseth God,
For in the wind His voice is oft'
Heard to thunder bold and sad
Before the victory cheers, aloft
Call for the mantle that He wears.
And God in ancient wisdom, frail,
And silver-haired sits with His tears
At the tearing of the veil.


Ah! but what of love?
We think: has it taken stranger?
Some will say that loves knows not
Which of the twain are stronger:
Be it sorrow with its sombre thread
Of deep regret, returning?
Or be it joy, as some hath said,
Cools a heart of yearning?

Mask not thy burning germ of fear
In the sentinels that rot
And bear thy burden in good cheer,
Where passion comforts not
The heart of sighing, for as dust
Hath it fallen gladly -
Breathe! Breathe! deep of the lust
That is divine and Godly!

This thy right and this thy will,
Shade not thy loves in regret;
Thou hast built a temple, here distil
Its pure force into light and set
Thineself within thine amulet. A shrine
Of consecrated wisdom, sealed
By earthly bread and fiery wine
Is the distant matter of thy brain revealed.

Yea! thy crimson death shall be as sweet
That giveth all unto the Lord,
Thine heart shall serve, swift wings shall beat,
Resurrected by the sword.
For man hath built himself a bridge
Void unto void, world unto world;
He standeth at the spectral ridge
With expectations curled

Towards the aeons that shall come,
Towards the sounding of the drum,
And the narrow birth of devildom,
Framed by the leprosy of the sun
And the limitations of the Holy One,
For man's argosy hath here begun!


And dress yea self rich unto God;
Drinketh of His brews, from casks
That flow hearty. Set thee a period:
These thine ordeals and thine tasks,
Measure thine experience and be strong
And man shalt hereby reigneth long!

Thy flesh be as a shoreless bark,
A beacon of thy liberty,
That shalt illuminate the dark
By courage and virility!
Let thy prow look only on man's face
And thine helm taste of his sweet disgrace!

God of alchemy, God of reason,
Let His blood course through thy veined
Temple. Child of glory, in the season
Of thy paradise regained -
Yea! ye hath raped long of God's sanctuary,
Sweet ark of thy discovery.


Breathe of midnight's intoxication,
Lift thy limbs upon its shore,
And bow thee down in adulation
Of love, pure love, thou dost adore.

This, man's joy and abomination:
Giveth all unto the cup
Of thy ceremony and salvation -
Quench thy thirst and drinketh up!

This, thy primal invocation,
This thy will to be declared
Unto the sons of initiation
Who art strong for they hath dared

By secret light, their evocation
And by knowledge deemed it so
Wrought with danger, consecration
Giveth strength that they may go!


What monster passions lie in thy breast?


'Tis the fiend of love's unrest.


Be it of nocturnal fire,
The aspiration of the higher?


It liveth and it breatheth great
In its crucible of hate!


Seen ye yet death's wing come near,
In cheerless agonies, appear?


Death be like the serpent. wise,
His shape is formed fast to disguise;
He breatheth necromantic dung
And sings of fatal heartache, flung
Upon the corpse of youth, ran red:
A grotesque visage of the dead!

THE TALE OF PER BAUD - part five



We came by a hill and we rested a while
And I placed in her hand, a daffodil,
That fell from her hair and made her smile,
And tender hearts grew warmer still.
I brushed from her cheek, a single tear:
No tears should stain thy cheek my dear,
For though this life can never fill
Our hearts as much as love’s sweet song,
Still, sadness in our hearts is wrong.

The clouds grew grey yet could not stir
Or teat my gaze from my love there;
No force thrown upon me or her
Could part our delicate passions, fair!
So we kissed and felt the noon sky shake;
Shake with supernatural strength to break
Two souls apart, on a hillside, where
Heaven’s wroth was wrought on mortal love,
A love no god should be jealous of!

Then through the silent woods there blew
A distant sound that shaped the trees
In a silhouette of menace, that grew
To thunderous heights of great unease!
No longer the sleepy, haunted hush,
For now the woods were a terrible rush
Of vistas, long, where raced the breeze
From winding hollows and turned-up clumps,
Half-shaded by the mammoth stumps!

Then we were caught within its sweep
That clambered from the darkling woods;
The horror was fast upon us, deep,
That circled us in a spiral flood
Of dry leaves in their rising and falling,
And the roar was as some demon calling…
Twisting and turning, yet we stood
Till the force had thrown us to the ground,
And still those leaves, possessed, danced round!

She stretched out her hand but the wind blew hard
And she closed her eyes as the wind swept past;
I held my hands out as if to guard
My sweet child’s face from nature’s blast:
Take my hand, no law shall part,
Not god’s or nature’s from my heart;
The tempest must soon breathe its last
And our love proved stronger than she,
‘Twill soon seek a new enemy!

Then a fiery wind tore into my breast
And our hands parted from each others grasp,
As we both tumbled from our dread unrest:
The might of the gale had broken our clasp!
My head hung low and my eyes were shut tight,
Yet I wanted to look up and see the sight
Of my love nearby as I heard her gasp:
I wanted to reach out and pull her near
But the wailing wind was shrill and drear!

O when will it cease! I cried aloud
As it seemed like centuries rushing by –
Then calm – and my eyes met the leafy shroud
Trimmed with lace that lay nearby!
I clutched it close to my sad heart
And screamed out: O where art? Where art?
My love! Where art thou? Yet no cry
From my lady’s lips came back,
As I looked up to the heavens, blank!

My horse had fled and left me there
So I walked the woods that trailed the hill,
And nothing could change my course or dare,
For courage had strong hold on my will!
Eternity, it seemed, I was alone
Not knowing where my love had gone.
Above my head, the clouds were still,
And tears fell soft upon the ground
As my dying heart made no sound!

I came to a clearing where a farmer stood,
Resting on his hay carts wheel,
Gathering bundles of coppice wood,
I decided to ask him, surely he’ll
Know where my sweet maid has gone
And where her beauty walks alone!
He will know, he must, I feel
He must have seen her come or go;
He must know something, he must know…

Have you seen good sir, a lady fair
Wandering about this stunted isle?
She wears the night time for her hair
And the day time for her smile!
She is a whisper framed in white
That like a feather in its flight,
Softly, slowly falls a while
And comes to rest most beautifully
As if wings had set her down gently.

She was blown upon the evening stream
With the moon upon her face,
Like a lily on the water, green,
She came unto this haunted place…
And there by the love she showed to me
Sang songs of life’s long ancestry…
Have you seen this queen, serene?
My love is measureless, for see
I offer up the world to thee!

And on his face I saw a smile
And his deep and withered looks seemed cold;
Something I had not seen while
My tale was being told.
I implored him again, yet he turned away
And I said: Good sir, I am willing to pay
For knowledge in kindness or in gold,
For you see, I must know where she lies
And forlorn, is wretched with sad sighs!

I fear you are fooled sir, or maybe playing
Games with old Ted, for here, ye look –
The lass you long to is this day laying
In yonder churchyard… the river took
That sweet young thing to her funeral chamber,
‘Twas sixteen years now I remember,
I’ll ne’er forget for I had to hook
The sweet thing from the river’s woe –
Such a pretty lass to taste its flow!

I fear you’re mistaken, this very morn
And all night last we talked and sat
And slept by firelight until dawn!
We ran and laughed as sure as that
I am beside you. Dreamt she of distant lands,
Of golden spires and silver sands!
Yet the clouds grew black and feared what
Love between us was stronger than
All the earthliness of man!

Yes, turned sad on us, to see us love,
And blackness raged as the wind blew
Its wicked way in hope to move
Two souls whose love had eager, grew!
Then from my arms she was took
And as I opened my eyes to look,
I saw her not, and fled into
These woods in hope of finding where
My maiden lies both foul and fair!

The girl, her name was Catherine
And she lies near yonder church,
Beneath a stone in a box of pine,
Under the shade of a birch
That shapes its shadows in the night –
Sometimes a glimpse of casket white
Is seen in some tireless vain search
To find the one she did adore;
To rest in peace for evermore!

THE TALE OF PER BAUD - part four



As dawn had struck the morning shore,
We raced as children to my horse;
She picked up the skirts and lace she wore
As we ran down the track with greater force!
Then saddled upon my ivory steed,
We went where the beaten track would lead,
Following its shuffled, winding course,
Over the hills and riverbanks
On my proud steed’s white thundering flanks.

Along the track we came by a wood
And saw between the boughs, a gate
That perhaps for many years, had stood
Dwarfed by the trunks, in its iron, ornate,
Austere manner, defending the way
To some ancestral manor that lay
Beyond the lindens in desolate,
Cheerless gloom, where lordly throng
Bellows as the day is long!

Perhaps there hides a devilish mind
Within some hideous features, strange,
That’s tormented by the sun, behind
The curtained casements of the grange;
And by moonlit corridors
Is found deep in some demonic laws,
Conjuring doom, in hope to change
His poor misfortunes and foolish woe,
That sure to the devil’s own, must go!

Or maybe some maid fears her fate
As she sits and dreams of some past love,
That often would come to this rusted gate
With its crest and lions cast above
To clasp their hands between the bars,
Beneath the magnitude of stars,
Before she hastened to some grove
And down a pathway’s sombre glide
To find her lighted casement, wide?

We walked beside the broken rails
Where the sycamores over-hung
The speedwell shoots, beside the trails
Narrow edge where seeds were flung
By hearty gales in olden days,
By nature amused in idle ways!
And here the tender buds grow strong
That through the morn had turned aside
From blooms behind the rails, that died.

We briefly strayed upon a bridge
To look into a babbling stream,
And mosses grew thick that hung from its ridge
Into the water, green;
And in its black and reedy flow
We heard it murmur long and low
About the rustling woods, serene;
Then drifting as if tossed away
Into its quick, measureless grey,

A single rose, along, was swept,
Indestructible on its rippled fate,
And ‘tween her and me, our hearts wept:
‘Tis a sign there lurks some sad times, great,
Ahead for us, but let’s not dwell
On what is to come, for who can tell
If destiny is yet worth the wait
When guided by some unseen hand
That we can never understand?

We left the water’s woeful scene
That through the woods had fixed us by
Its cursive flow and mirrored green,
With its destructiveness and sly
Meandering from hill to hill!
And chimney pots were visible still
Upon the darkened sky,
And steps led down where the stream flowed past:
Perhaps some Roman walked here last!

We walked along in playful mood,
Till I did not know what sad air sprung
Upon my thoughts, and turned my blood
Cold in veins that once were strong,
When we came upon a clearing, filled
With little stones that struck and chilled
Our hearts to see, as each one clung
In mossy heaps, and strewn with vine –
We quickly stepped through their decline.

Some wayside, sentimental site
Where children past, have sat and cried
For favoured pets, sent to the night:
Ancestral fossils, dear and dried!
I looked upon their fond farewells
That time erased on animals…
Stone and stately repose and stride:
We could not look long on those graves, unloved,
And I saw in her, more than me, she was moved!

She cried and I held her close to me,
Yet nothing stifled her sobs or tears;
I said: This place knows misery,
Why add to what’s been here for years?
We can choose to leave or stay
But these bones can know no other way;
They know not when the darkness nears,
Nor of the nightingale, sweet, that sings:
For they know none of nature’s things:

The wind that stirs between the rows
Of larch and ash, and pine and oak;
They can’t see how the daisy grows
So simple over plains, that stroke
The fields and rivers and forest edge,
Or how the light on the thistles and the hedge
Glints with the dew and morning smoke,
And sway about upon the breeze –
My dear, they can see none of these!

And on we walked with my horse behind,
Yet she was sad between the grey
And green boughs, that each side, lined
The track that winds away…
For comfort, I could do no more
Than hold her near as oft’ before.
O how I remembered her by the bay
When I called to her, and hearts were met,
And our weary course was set.

She seemed a dream from out the mist,
But now I hold her and I know
That when our lips first met and kissed,
I knew not the terror on her brow.
All through the morn, we saw no-one,
Just her and me and my horse, alone,
Following where’er the track may go.
Silence had filled the terrible wood,
And O how I would sleep if I could!

Then we saw the lone estate
And I guessed it some baronial home,
Till my love declared it once her late
Grand-father’s house, where she would roam
In youth about its gloomy halls
And watch the splendid summer balls.
I questioned her and sought her name,
Yet nothing would she say nor dare,
But only that sad times, were there,

For locked within each stately room
Where oft’ she dreamt that she had known
The wasted lips, from out the tomb
Were equally wasted as her own!
The sun shone on the ivy clad
Walls where times both good and bad,
Were now to foul decay’s reign, thrown;
The broken casements were open wide
And showed no sign of life inside!

And across the wide sweeping lawn
Dark rows of planted maples spread
Over the rose and the wild hawthorn
That had wandered and withered beneath them, dead.
I imagined the scene of long ago
Where lovers sat ‘neath the boughs aglow,
Content at what was and was not said,
Under the pink and opal swoon
Of shady boughs, one fragrant June!

Then I turned to see her eyes fall sad,
To see her youth in long days, flood
Fast upon her, in myriad
Streams that wrung her maidenhood;
The mood between us seemed to rest
On melancholy mind and breast!
She shook to see the dark house brood
Like a haunted shell within the park;
Dreary to look on, with endless dark

Appalling windows that look out
Across the lawns and sunken pond,
Now dry, though once stocked with trout…
There a summer-house used to stand
Till an oak came crashing down
One winter morn, when winds were blown;
This garden, which one time was grand
Now fills my heart with woe to see
What time’s thrown at it, carelessly!

My love let us away from here,
I see great sadness in your eyes,
For childhood haunts are never cheer
When on returning, childhood dies,
And we become but ghosts of time,
Where memories, past, reach out, sublime.
We passed the awful scenes disguise
And could not turn once, down the track,
To the ominous ruin that called her back.

THE TALE OF PER BAUD - part three



I ran to where the boat had shored,
To where it stopped in the reeds, between
A slope of grass and a landing board,
But alas, she was nowhere to be seen –
Beauty had passed with enchanted pace,
Without a sound and without a trace!
I longed to flee this loathsome scene
Where nature lay stricken and unmoved
By a love that was not loved.

I sat to hear my wild heart sigh,
As each eddy, stretched and met my feet,
Till I saw her skirts go rushing by,
Tearful, in pale defeat!
I called to her and she glanced round
With eyes startled, that suddenly found
My eyes with hers… and ‘twas sweet,
Then by her side, I took her hand
As fragrant blossom in the air, was fanned.

Thy name, dear child, pray tell, my sweet:
What fatal word could rest on thee,
Bound to thy delicate bosom’s beat
That lingers softly near to me?
And what feared blood through veins will run
Now this dread hour has begun
To turn my heart to woe! Could we
Perhaps have been thrown together, here
While the dim day waits alone, in fear?

My name, I cannot say, for shame
Is brought upon my household, great;
I have wronged my father and his name
And forced an error on his fate,
For I was to wed a wretched man
Of noble birth… that I were dead than
Marry such a man! How I hate
The way he throws his gaze on me
As if I was chained by matrimony!

Fear not, my sweet, for he’ll not have
Thy beauty to spoil and erase;
On my honour, I will, from sadness, save
Thy soul from sorrow’s ways!
And under the wine-red last of sun
I felt our two hearts beat as one.
And to the water, I gave praise
As our frames locked, reflecting together:
My self and my fair maid of the river!

We kissed and trembled, the air grew cold;
The moon seemed pale, paler than her;
I held her soft with my strong hold
With her wax-like hands so tender
Upon my breast – my beating military chest,
Where my ribbons and medals of valour rest,
Glinting in her eyes and lying on her slender
Breast, she leaned her lovely head on me
And I wished that this night would forever be.

We sat all night by rogue moonlight,
Talking and sometimes kissing;
Her eyes flashed under the silvery-bright
Moon, yet there was something missing –
She had changed, her face no longer pale
As the gallant spectral clipper’s sail;
She seemed to me, in reminiscing;
Her countenance was flushed with gold,
As if some inner flame had hold.

And from her lips, no sound was heard,
And I remembered how earlier I’d sat
On that lone hill, in the sombre churchyard
Among the stones, fearful that
Should heaven prove we’re more alone
When to the nameless grave we’ve gone,
Then how can we still marvel at
Nature’s destructive, vengeful way
That binds us night and day?

I saw in her as the flames danced full
On her face, in bleak outline,
A spirit trapped, so terrible,
In search of some divine
Truth to fill the blank midnight,
To throw on us its sacred light
By saintly hand, and for us shine
The way ahead, and lead us on
Where all remembered souls have gone!

I dreamt that I saw caverns, grand,
Open up and take me down…
And with my love still close at hand,
Two souls were we, to Hell’s gate, thrown.
And devil or tempter came by me
As if to set my dead soul free,
For many wondrous things were shown,
That I renounced and turned away,
For I longed to be where my love lay!

Strange to the tomb, yet beautiful,
Wrapt loosely in some mouldy shroud
With two eyes piercing from her skull,
As to the gathered churchyard’s crowd
She wept, and stood alone in sorrow,
With no words upon her lips to follow
The cursing dead, foul and loud,
Lamenting in their shamed display
Of sinful bones and lusts that lay

Like forgotten memories, in dusty rooms
Awoken to the sad air’s parade
Of tenants from their sickly tombs
That to the maddening night had strayed.
O keep her from their fearful ways
And free her by those moonlight rays
That rears the ugly shades to sight,
And fills her spirits with such woe
To see how death becomes her so.

And I fell as in some swoon or dream;
Some nightmare vision – this the scene:

‘Twas late in the churchyard,
Not a soul did stir,
Till figures in the light did dance:
Creatures of darkness and things that once were –
When I shouted they all turned to glance.

I turned and I ran,
As hard as I could,
To the church where I’d first seen a light;
Over tombstones I leapt, till the entrance I found,
In the doorway stood an airy young sprite!

Let me pass, said I,
Let me pass and be gone!
As it rose and its eyes met my gaze,
And held bony fingers, stretched pale and wan –
So departed the doorway ablaze!

From inside the church,
Strange chanting was heard
And musical tones filled the air;
Figures in white, did shift through the night,
Transfixed by deep chant and prayer!

Around the proceeding
A young sylph was leading
A dance with such force, such furore;
Till still went the night, and a furious flight
As the master blasphemer came forth!

Out went the lights
On this night of dark rites,
And the wind swept the door wide aside,
As in drifts a gas of a conjuring mass –
The flowing, spectral bride!

In the luminous green glow
Trailed that pale lady, slow,
With eyes dark as a raven’s stare;
She floats to the nave, like a murmuring grave
In deathly, ancient air!

That winged, horned devil,
At the end of the revel,
Took his virginal, un-dead bride;
Drank blood from her skull, in the lingering dull
And rode off with his wife at his side!

I woke to find my sweet love close,
Sleeping, while something magical
Was all about her fair repose
As she dreamt of regions, wonderful,
Where winding streams through woodlands drift
To fields and valleys with gentle shift;
I saw her fancied dreams were full
Of love’s ambition and warm glow:
I awaited the dawn and kissed her brow.




As I neared the track’s winding end,
I saw before me fields of gold:
‘Twas like the sight of a welcome friend,
That over the stretching valleys, rolled.
I called out, as if someone were greeting me,
But still I dwelt in sad company:
Perhaps she lies unremembered; her hold
On life, as a ghost, all but gone,
And her endless spirit is weary of the world, alone?

The distance between our souls was plain
And my heart began to wish that I
Were far away from this loathsome lane…
And I remembered how as a little boy
I would play in those dappled woods,
And I would spend my changing moods
Questioning God and nature – Why
The mind of man in valiant quest
Knows not of love within his breast?

Through all this, by the river’s bending,
The sun was slowly going down,
And on my soul was night, descending,
Along dark passages where reeds were blown;
And swaying under their dry-stemmed weight
Where summer’s sun had sealed their fate…
I thought I saw the swish of white gown
Among the reeds and hearty sprays
Of bank-side buds, and sunset rays.

The water was still, yet a wind had come;
Come to taunt me in my woe;
Come to flood my mind of the tomb
Where pale Catherine lies in her sorrow,
Like the water that’s calm and still,
Swept into some lone idyll,
That seeks its melancholy morrow
Where again it shall follow with eager jaunt,
My frame through the woods and hills, to haunt!

On the green wave, a dire mist
Rose up from banks across the way;
Came rolling low on the waves and kissed
Goodnight upon the day.
Then out of this white mantle’s lull,
The sound of creaking oars, though dull,
Grew in strength near a darkened bay,
Where I and my horse had stood some time
To watch the mist on the water, climb.

Through the white shifting, rippled wave,
Like silken threads on the awkward air;
There came a wooden boat that gave
My soul its timbered stare,
And as two eyes strayed over the prow
I saw their sad gaze upon me, now.
Like Psyche, silent, sat she there
As the lapping river bowed before
Such beauty, to ever come ashore!

Her hair had tumbled over her brow
And I saw her lips like flaming jewels;
My spirit soared, for I could not know
What madness beat upon timeless bells,
Or what sad symmetry on the water, slips
In wild tangents and perfect ellipse!
Perhaps ‘tis some harpy from some devil’s
Loveless chasm, whose fiery lips shall kiss,
My soul dimmed by such loveliness?

To see such beauty from the night
Made moonlight’s gift a mockery,
To see such an angel so vibrant in white
With her eyes so sad upon me.
This mist deceives me; my eyes are fooled:
‘Tis time that the amorous heart were cooled.
And this I believed, till I saw that she
Was swiftly nearing in that ragged hull:
O spirit, calm and beautiful.

Between her and me, the wind rushed by,
Echoing its phantasmagorical din,
Yet it could not hide my passionate sigh
That thundered from within.
Her eyes met mine, once again, and we
Were closer now, and I saw that she,
With scarlet lips, crisp and thin
Whispered words lost to the breeze,
Made more awful by mists, quick to seize!

The fluttering blossom that swept in whirls
And blew about her tragic bow,
To die upon the foaming curls
Of the river’s joyless flow –
I looked on her sweet face, so pale
That broke from ‘neath a white fringed veil;
I saw her frail hands long and narrow
Fall to the sides of the creaking hull,
To dip in the water, wonderful!

Drifting where willow and birch made shade
Near the riverside’s sloping edge,
There beside a watery glade
Softened by sheltering sedge;
And slowly on the woeful river
I thought my soul be blessed to see her!
There beats a heart of gentle age,
Pure within that bosom, though
In her eyes I saw the light of sorrow.

What maid from lonesome night is she
To throw on me her haunted glance?
My thoughts were wild yet I could not see
Where her beaten boat should chance
And set her down among the reeds
And sunken springtime roots and weeds.
Filled with torment and fixed in trance,
I glimpsed its mossy hulk descend
Where the willows meet the river’s bend!




Day had struck the river’s roll,
Sweeping across its magnificent sway,
Where I, by my horse’s side, did stroll,
Following the river’s unquestionable way;
Its winding course, threads the hills and woods,
Where dark birches shaped my silent moods;
Their towering passions fallen away,
As the river brings such awful death
To lie before those dread waves of Lethe!

I rode through the lanes on my tiring steed,
Carried away by the morning’s frost,
Watching the birds in the cornfields feed
On the farmer’s scattered seed that cost
Many a night an aching back,
To sow by hand from a heavy sack!
I leant against an old gate post
And tied my horse to an old wooden pole
That rocked to and fro within its hole.

In mournful mood, I found the scene
Awesome to behold in its desolate woe,
So I sat me down by a tree, to dream,
As I could not no further go.
I thought of many wondrous things:
The quarrels of the heart and the joy love brings,
Till I felt on my cheek a cool wind blow
And found I’d dreamt the morn away
Beneath an apple tree’s blossomed sway!

I saw before me a twisting track,
Where thistle and heather swept over a hill –
I walked on, though stopped, half-way, glancing back
As I felt in my young heart a sudden chill
At not seeing my horse or the apple tree,
That from the noon’s heat had sheltered me.
Weary, I turned, and onward, still
I climbed, filled by some new light
Within, that fuelled me with fresh fight.

At the top of the hill stood an old stone church,
And I wandered about its sloped graveyard,
Surrounded by statues and silver birch,
As if sentinels, stood they by the dead, on guard.
Crooked stones carved with elegant scrolls
Were left to decay with those forgotten souls!
I took from my side, my sleepless sword,
And against some stone marked ‘Catherine’,
Rested – she died young, and lies within.

I felt my fingers touch her name,
And pressed against such awful fate,
I though of the many bones that lie the same
Upon this hill of sorrows great;
For someone, somewhere must surely weep
To lose such a one whose soul shall keep
The blush of youth, and ever wait
Till death’s harbinger on her, is doubled
By mortal love, that’s twice as troubled?

Lost in thoughts that left me cold:
I found no wrongs for philosophies,
Solving, that in ancient worlds, were told
And hammered through the centuries…
For if heaven is above us, in the sky,
Then surely hell on this earth must lie,
To summon young bones from earthly ties…
I looked upon her cheerless stone
And wished this heavy heart were gone.

Yet how bewitching she must have been;
What love she must have known, like I,
And walked with a beauty so serene,
Until she came to this hill to lie
And rest among cool-shaded stones
Alone, in an eternity of bones!
I imagined I could hear her sigh,
Within her sun-less burial mound,
As I lay me down on the mossy ground.

And deep the pain and deep the woe
That harboured melancholy fears,
That for this girl I did not know –
My eyes were filled with tears.
Should ever a soul weep soft for me
When I am deep in the ground, like she?
Here she has lay some sixteen years;
I wish I had known her in her day
Before she met her ill-timed way!

O spirit, do not forsake me now,
Forlorn, I am but mortal man;
Though dark the blood through coarse veins, flow,
To meet in me each cruel organ!
I am given to thoughts that in me swell,
Like the breaking of some crystal bell
That over this world’s meteoric span,
Booms by oceans, feeding the land
From God’s grandeur to His temples, grand!

I heard sweet birdsong rise and fall,
As I pulled my self from sad refrain;
I felt the spell’s last conjured call
Sweep about the stones again.
And in the evening’s lull, I cried,
And felt the gulf between us, wide:
Sweet Catherine, I have felt thy pain,
To sit here where thy resting bones
Do not stir beneath my sighs and moans.

Then hooves came thundering up the track,
That from its sad air broke my mind;
I saw my horse’s reins fell slack
And saw the old fence post, behind,
Dragged like some bent piece of twig
That danced demonic, a terrible jig.
I raced down to free him, to unwind
His reins from that unwanted load
That waltzed behind him down the road.

We rode from the hill by a fading sun,
To the gentle ripples that struck the banks,
As I looked to see that church, near gone:
I paused to give sweet Catherine thanks;
That girl alone in burial white
Is left to face another night
With the churchyard’s gloomy ranks
Of spectres, phantoms, ghouls and ghosts
And other rotted-coffined hosts!

If only I could be the same
As those foul creatures that nightly, turn
Lone Catherine’s eyes upon the shame,
I would at least by midnight, learn
What wondrous beauty haunts the tomb
In scarlet blossom and velvet bloom,
Wherein her blood-red eyes shall burn
To look on love and purity
That in my souls, long dwelt in me!

I looked across the river’s reach
Silently wishing I were not alone;
That maybe my horse and I, we each
Had thoughts the same, that somehow shone
As one in thoughts of hope, no less;
But I could only try to guess
That his thoughts like mine had gone
From joy to sadness in one stride:
‘Twas fair Catherine walking at my side!


Sub figura CCXX
As delivered by XCIII = 418 to DCLXVI

Chapter III

1. Abrahadabra; the reward of Ra Hoor Khut.

Abrahadabra – the word contains five letters ‘a’, (Hebrew letter Aleph) symbolic of the pentagram (or the’ pentalpha’). Aleph in full=111 (111x5=555). 555=HAD in full. Abrahadabra= 11 letters (5 the pentagram + 6 the hexagram, the union of the microcosm with the macrocosm and it therefore represents the completion of the Great Work). Notice also that the first verse contains five words, five being the ‘elements’ and the pentagram, the symbol of Hadit. In chapter I was the ‘manifestation’, in chapter II the ‘hiding’ and here in chapter III is the ‘reward’. Also ‘Ra Hoor Khut’ is spelt without ‘yod’ [Khuit] which may have some significance as to a formula or gematria.
2. There is division hither homeward; there is a word not known. Spelling is defunct; all is not aught. Beware! Hold! Raise the spell of Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

‘word not known. Spelling is defunct;’ – ‘Ra-Hoor-Khuit’ now contains the ‘yod’ and is spelt in the familiar way.


3. Now let it be first understood that I am a god of War and of Vengeance. I shall deal hardly with them.

4. Choose ye an island!

Island=Chokhma on the tree of life. Ye= Yod/He=10+5=15, the mystic number of Geburah. Island could also mean a part of the psych that is weak and needs to be ‘healed’ or strengthened to attain perfect equilibrium in order to perform the Great Work.
5. Fortify it!

Make it strong!
6. Dung it about with enginery of war!

7. I will give you a war-engine.

8. With it ye shall smite the peoples; and none shall stand before you.

9. Lurk! Withdraw! Upon them! this is the Law of the Battle of Conquest: thus shall my worship be about my secret house.

The beginning of the verse implies a magickal formula known to initiates.
10. Get the stele of revealing itself; set it in thy secret temple -- and that temple is already aright disposed -- & it shall be your Kiblah for ever. It shall not fade, but miraculous colour shall come back to it day after day. Close it in locked glass for a proof to the world.

The Stele of Revealing which was numbered 666 in the Boulak Museum, Cairo. The Stele (which is the stele of the Priest Ankh-f-n-khonsu) shows the image of Horus in his form as Ra-Hoor-Khuit. Above him is the Winged Globe and above that the bent figure of the Goddess Nuit, her feet and hands touching the earth.
11. This shall be your only proof. I forbid argument. Conquer! That is enough. I will make easy to you the abstruction from the ill-ordered house in the Victorious City. Thou shalt thyself convey it with worship, o prophet, though thou likest it not. Thou shalt have danger & trouble. Ra-Hoor-Khu is with thee. Worship me with fire & blood; worship me with swords & with spears. Let the woman be girt with a sword before me: let blood flow to my name. Trample down the Heathen; be upon them, o warrior, I will give you of their flesh to eat!

The Victorious City is Cairo and the ill-ordered house is the Boulak Museum.



Ra-Hoor-Khu by its nature seems to suggest that it manifests in the soul or ‘khu’ of the adept. By this thinking, Ra-Hoor-Khuit may be an element which manifests as ‘the Lord of the aeon of Horus’ and Ra-Hoor-Khut as an element of the manifestation which appears as the initiator of the magickal current from the Kiblah, or Boleskine.

‘let blood flow to my name’ in its secret sense suggests semen.
12. Sacrifice cattle, little and big: after a child.

LITTLE=30+10+9+9+30+5=93 (3x31, La ShT Al, Thelema).


CHILD= By the Tarot VII+XVII+IX+VIII+III=44 (DM blood).

This is not a licence to perform a sacrifice; child in this sense is the unborn child of the adept, in other words, semen.
13. But not now.

14. Ye shall see that hour, o blessed Beast, and thou the Scarlet Concubine of his desire!

15. Ye shall be sad thereof.

16. Deem not too eagerly to catch the promises; fear not to undergo the curses. Ye, even ye, know not this meaning all.

‘Know not’ – ALL (1+30+30=61) AL+LA.

Ye= Yod, He, the Beast and the Scarlet Woman.

17. Fear not at all; fear neither men nor Fates, nor gods, nor anything. Money fear not, nor laughter of the folk folly, nor any other power in heaven or upon the earth or under the earth. Nu is your refuge as Hadit your light; and I am the strength, force, vigour, of your arms.

18. Mercy let be off; damn them who pity! Kill and torture; spare not; be upon them!


Mercy= Chesed.

19. That stele they shall call the Abomination of Desolation; count well its name, & it shall be to you as 718.

718= Upsilon – pi – omicron – mu – omicron – nu – eta = persistence, a Greek noun corresponding to ‘perdurabo’.

Steel 666= CTHAH=546 (CT counts as 500 or 52 when CT is 6).
178-52+666, CYHAH=666.
20. Why? Because of the fall of Because, that he is not there again.

WHY (taking Tzaddi as the Emperor in the Tarot) = V+XVII+IX=XXXI (31).
21. Set up my image in the East: thou shalt buy thee an image which I will show thee, especial, not unlike the one thou knowest. And it shall be suddenly easy for thee to do this.

22. The other images group around me to support me: let all be worshipped, for they shall cluster to exalt me. I am the visible object of worship; the others are secret; for the Beast & his Bride are they: and for the winners of the Ordeal x. What is this? Thou shalt know.

The ordeal X is perhaps an allusion to the crossing of the Abyss.
23. For perfume mix meal & honey & thick leavings of red wine: then oil of Abramelin and olive oil, and afterward soften & smooth down with rich fresh blood.

Oil of Abramelin: 8 parts Cinnamon oil, 4 parts Myrrh oil, 2 parts Galangal oil, and 7 parts olive oil. (Essential oils are usually used for this).
24. The best blood is of the moon, monthly: then the fresh blood of a child, or dropping from the host of heaven: then of enemies; then of the priest or of the worshippers: last of some beast, no matter what.

Blood of the moon= menstrual blood. In the aeon of Horus sexual energies are utilized and where it is written blood it usually means semen or the conjoined elements found after sexual intercourse.
25. This burn: of this make cakes & eat unto me. This hath also another use; let it be laid before me, and kept thick with perfumes of your orison: it shall become full of beetles as it were and creeping things sacred unto me.

Cakes of Light (see verse 23 above):

A simple recipe is 1.5 cups of flour, 6 table spoons of extra virgin olive oil, 7 table spoons of honey, 1 table spoon of wine leavings and 7 drops of Abramelin oil. The ‘rich fresh blood’ I would suggest is an optional ingredient but I would say that 1 drop or a certain number peculiar to a particular operation would suffice. These ‘cakes’ are generally used in the Gnostic Mass and the Mass of the Phoenix, but they can be used in other rites as the adept desires.

26. These slay, naming your enemies; & they shall fall before you.

27. Also these shall breed lust & power of lust in you at the eating thereof.

28. Also ye shall be strong in war.

29. Moreover, be they long kept, it is better; for they swell with my force. All before me.

30. My altar is of open brass work: burn thereon in silver or gold!

31. There cometh a rich man from the West who shall pour his gold upon thee.

32. From gold forge steel!

Gold represents Tiphereth and ‘forge steel’ suggests Geburah.
33. Be ready to fly or to smite!

34. But your holy place shall be untouched throughout the centuries: though with fire and sword it be burnt down & shattered, yet an invisible house there standeth, and shall stand until the fall of the Great Equinox; when Hrumachis shall arise and the double-wanded one assume my throne and place. Another prophet shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the skies; another woman shall awake the lust & worship of the Snake; another soul of God and beast shall mingle in the globed priest; another sacrifice shall stain the tomb; another king shall reign; and blessing no longer be poured To the Hawk-headed mystical Lord!

Snake – the serpent-god= Hadit. [Apep – APP=1+80+80=161].

‘double-wanded one’ is Thmaist (the dual form of Thmaist is Thmais and Thmait and in Greek it is Themis). ‘Blessing’ (semen) ‘poured To the Hawk-headed mystical Lord!’ who is Horus.
35. The half of the word of Heru-ra-ha, called Hoor-pa-kraat and Ra-Hoor-Khut.

Heru-ra-ha=HRU-RA-HA (5+200+6+200+1+5+1=418.

Horus and Ra and Spirit. Ha=5+1=6=the sun (and the Hexagram).
36. Then said the prophet unto the God:

37. I adore thee in the song --

I am the Lord of Thebes, and I
The inspired forth-speaker of Mentu;
For me unveils the veiled sky,
The self-slain Ankh-af-na-khonsu
Whose words are truth. I invoke, I greet
Thy presence, O Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

Unity uttermost showed!
I adore the might of Thy breath,
Supreme and terrible God,
Who makest the gods and death
To tremble before Thee: --
I, I adore thee!

Appear on the throne of Ra!
Open the ways of the Khu!
Lighten the ways of the Ka!
The ways of the Khabs run through
To stir me or still me!
Aum! let it fill me!



RA=201. KHU=31. KA=21.

38. So that thy light is in me; & its red flame is as a sword in my hand to push thy order. There is a secret door that I shall make to establish thy way in all the quarters, (these are the adorations, as thou hast written), as it is said:

The light is mine; its rays consume
Me: I have made a secret door
Into the House of Ra and Tum,
Of Khephra and of Ahathoor.
I am thy Theban, O Mentu,
The prophet Ankh-af-na-khonsu!

By Bes-na-Maut my breast I beat;
By wise Ta-Nech I weave my spell.
Show thy star-splendour, O Nuit!
Bid me within thine House to dwell,
O winged snake of light, Hadit!
Abide with me, Ra-Hoor-Khuit!


Bes-na-Maut= BISh-N-MAVT=2+10+300+50+40+1+6+9=418.

Ra, Tum, Ahathoor and Kephra pertain to the various stations of the sun throughout its course: Dawn (East), Noon (South), Sunset (West), and Midnight (North). See Liber Resh vel Helios.
39. All this and a book to say how thou didst come hither and a reproduction of this ink and paper for ever -- for in it is the word secret & not only in the English -- and thy comment upon this the Book of the Law shall be printed beautifully in red ink and black upon beautiful paper made by hand; and to each man and woman that thou meetest, were it but to dine or to drink at them, it is the Law to give. Then they shall chance to abide in this bliss or no; it is no odds. Do this quickly!

40. But the work of the comment? That is easy; and Hadit burning in thy heart shall make swift and secure thy pen.

The comment is found at the end of the Book:


Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

The study of this Book is forbidden. It is wise to destroy this copy after the first reading.

Whosoever disregards this does so at his own risk and peril. These are most dire.
Those who discuss the contents of this Book are to be shunned by all, as centres of pestilence.

All questions of the Law are to be decided only by appeal to my writings, each for himself.

There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.

Love is the law, love under will.

The priest of the princes,


41. Establish at thy Kaaba a clerk-house: all must be done well and with business way.

KAABA=20+1+1+2+1=25 (5x5) the Pentagram in action.
42. The ordeals thou shalt oversee thyself, save only the blind ones. Refuse none, but thou shalt know & destroy the traitors. I am Ra-Hoor-Khuit; and I am powerful to protect my servant. Success is thy proof: argue not; convert not; talk not over much! Them that seek to entrap thee, to overthrow thee, them attack without pity or quarter; & destroy them utterly. Swift as a trodden serpent turn and strike! Be thou yet deadlier than he! Drag down their souls to awful torment: laugh at their fear: spit upon them!

43. Let the Scarlet Woman beware! If pity and compassion and tenderness visit her heart; if she leave my work to toy with old sweetnesses; then shall my vengeance be known. I will slay me her child: I will alienate her heart: I will cast her out from men: as a shrinking and despised harlot shall she crawl through dusk wet streets, and die cold and an-hungered.

Scarlet woman in Greek=667 [eta, – kappa – omicron – kappa – kappa – iota – nu – eta, – gamma – upsilon – nu – eta] and its initial eta, kappa, gamma= 8+20+3=31.
44. But let her raise herself in pride! Let her follow me in my way! Let her work the work of wickedness! Let her kill her heart! Let her be loud and adulterous! Let her be covered with jewels, and rich garments, and let her be shameless before all men!

45. Then will I lift her to pinnacles of power: then will I breed from her a child mightier than all the kings of the earth. I will fill her with joy: with my force shall she see & strike at the worship of Nu: she shall achieve Hadit.

46. I am the warrior Lord of the Forties: the Eighties cower before me, & are abased. I will bring you to victory & joy: I will be at your arms in battle & ye shall delight to slay. Success is your proof; courage is your armour; go on, go on, in my strength; & ye shall turn not back for any!

40=Mem, 80= Pe, Mars etc. ‘Go on’ Go=73, Gimel in full, On=56 or 120. ANY=1+50+10=61.
47. This book shall be translated into all tongues: but always with the original in the writing of the Beast; for in the chance shape of the letters and their position to one another: in these are mysteries that no Beast shall divine. Let him not seek to try: but one cometh after him, whence I say not, who shall discover the Key of it all. Then this line drawn is a key: then this circle squared in its failure is a key also. And Abrahadabra. It shall be his child & that strangely. Let him not seek after this; for thereby alone can he fall from it.

‘circle squared in its failure is a key also’ – ALHIM – The mathematical Pi to four places= 3.1415 (more accurately 3.1416). Notice 31! Placing ShT before it we get Pi correct to six places 3.141593= ShTALHIM =300+9+1+30+5+10+40=395. This is reversed to give 593. ‘In its failure’ – Pi more accurately would be: 3.1415926535…
IT= 10+9=19. It was Charles Stansfield Jones (Frater AChAD who is ‘one’) who discovered the ‘key of it all’ (the number 31) in the year 1918 and he was the ‘child’ prophesised by the Book because Crowley and Soror Hilarion (Jean Robert Foster) performed a magical operation to produce a magical child, thus AChAD was ‘born’, he became a Babe of the Abyss. Crowley’s letter to AChAD of 9th September 1919 reads:
‘Your key opens Palace.CCXX has unfolded like a flower. All solved, even II.76 & III.47…. AL’AIN the Priest…..666’. For more on this see Liber 31.
48. Now this mystery of the letters is done, and I want to go on to the holier place.

49. I am in a secret fourfold word, the blasphemy against all gods of men.

50. Curse them! Curse them! Curse them!

51. With my Hawk's head I peck at the eyes of Jesus as he hangs upon the cross.

52. I flap my wings in the face of Mohammed & blind him.

53. With my claws I tear out the flesh of the Indian and the Buddhist, Mongol and Din.

54. Bahlasti! Ompehda! I spit on your crapulous creeds.

The words ‘Bahlasti’ and ‘Ompehda’ have the appearance of Enochian words.

OMPEHDA(H)=70+40+80+5+5+4+1+5=210 ( a reduction from two to nought).
55. Let Mary inviolate be torn upon wheels: for her sake let all chaste women be utterly despised among you!

56. Also for beauty's sake and love's!

Perhaps a reference to Babalon and the Beast.
57. Despise also all cowards; professional soldiers who dare not fight, but play; all fools despise!

58. But the keen and the proud, the royal and the lofty; ye are brothers!

59. As brothers fight ye!

60. There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.

61. There is an end of the word of the God enthroned in Ra's seat, lightening the girders of the soul.

62. To Me do ye reverence! to me come ye through tribulation of ordeal, which is bliss.

63. The fool readeth this Book of the Law, and its comment; & he understandeth it not.

‘The fool’ (Parzival= Frater O.I.V.V.I.O. who is also AChAD – Charles Stansfield Jones) ‘understandeth it’ (he was a Magister Templi which is the grade attributed to understanding) ‘not’ (meaning to be ‘not’. PARZIVAL=418. Parzival is AChAD which means ‘unity’, and the letter of unity is ‘Aleph’ which is the letter of the ‘fool’ in the Tarot. ‘NOT’ in Hebrew is ‘LA’ which is 31 and ‘AL’ is God, also 31. The third 31 is the double letter ShT (XX + XI in the Tarot). 31+31+31=93.
64. Let him come through the first ordeal, & it will be to him as silver.

65. Through the second, gold.

66. Through the third, stones of precious water.

67. Through the fourth, ultimate sparks of the intimate fire.

68. Yet to all it shall seem beautiful. Its enemies who say not so, are mere liars.

69. There is success.

70. I am the Hawk-Headed Lord of Silence & of Strength; my nemyss shrouds the night-blue sky.

71. Hail! ye twin warriors about the pillars of the world! for your time is nigh at hand.

72. I am the Lord of the Double Wand of Power; the wand of the Force of Coph Nia--but my left hand is empty, for I have crushed an Universe; & nought remains.

‘I am’ in Greek= epsilon – iota – mu – iota =5+10+40+10=65 [6+5=11.

65= Samekh (60) + He (5). In the Tarot Samekh=XIV and He=XVII [XIV+XVII=XXXI (31)].


Coph Nia=100+61=161. Coph in the Tarot= KVPh=31. KVPh NIA in full=434 (4+3+4=11). [KOPh NIA=231 which is the sum of the first 22 numbers 0+1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12+13+14+15+16+17+18+19+20+21=231.

KPh=K the Kteis (the moon) and Ph the Phallus (the sun), their conjunction produces NIA (61) – AIN (the negative) and ANI (the ego).
73. Paste the sheets from right to left and from top to bottom: then behold!

74. There is a splendour in my name hidden and glorious, as the sun of midnight is ever the son.

‘the sun of midnight is ever the son’= the sun of midnight= Kephra, of which it is stated is ‘ever the son’ – Son in the Tarot= XIV+XV+XIII=XXXVIII (38) 3+8=11 and 38x11=418.

Also, SUN=60+6+50=116 and SON=60+6+50=116, and also by the Tarot we can get XIV+V+XIII=XXVIII (28) for both ‘sun’ and ‘son’. 28= KCh=Power and it is the mystic number of Netzach. Also note that by addition sun+son=28+28=56 – NV (Nuit).
75. The ending of the words is the Word Abrahadabra.
The Book of the Law is Written
and Concealed.
Aum. Ha.

Abrahadabra, the word of eleven letters. Hoor-pa-kraat and Ra-Hoor-Khuit also have eleven letters each.

Aum-Ha= Aum=111 and Ha=6. [111x6+666]. Aum (mem final)=671 which is Throa, the Gate of Adonai in full.

75, the final verse= NUIT (50+6+10+9=75).