Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war, Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb; Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands, And casts them out upon the darken'd earth! Prepare, prepare! ...
But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance: They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming, In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires,...
'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, Came children walking two and two, in read, and blue, and green: Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,...
If it is true, what the Prophets write, That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones, Shall we, for the sake of being polite, Feed them with the juice of our marrow-bones? ...
I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep And its fallen Emanation, the Spectre and its cruel Shadow. I see the Past, Present and Future existing all at once...
I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep And its fallen Emanation, the Spectre and its cruel Shadow. I see the Past, Present and Future existing all at once...
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc, When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode: His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron:...