The Holy of Holies



THE fragrant gateways of the dawn2
Teem with the scent of flowers.

The mother, Midnight, has withdrawn
Her slumberous kissing hours:

Day springs, with footsteps as a fawn,
Into her rosy bowers.


The pale and holy maiden horn3
In highest heaven is set.


My forehead, bathed in her forlorn
Light, with her lips is met;

My lips, that murmur in the morn,
With lustrous dew are wet.


My prayer is mighty with my will;
My purpose as a sword4

Flames through the adamant, to fill
The gardens of the Lord

With music, that the air be still,
Dumb to its mighty chord.


I stand above the tides of time
And elemental strife;

My figure stands above, sublime,
Shadowing the Key of Life,5

And the passion of my mighty rhyme
Divides me as a knife.


For secret symbols on my brow,
And secret thoughts within,

Compel eternity to Now,
Draw the Infinite within.

Light is extended.6 I and Thou
Are as they had not been.7


So on my head the light is one,
Unity manifest;

A star more splendid than the sun
Burns for my crowned crest;

Burns, as the murmuring orison
Of waters in the west.


What angel from the silver gate
Flames to my fierier face?

What angel, as I contemplate
The unsubstantial space?

Move with my lips the laws of Fate
That bind earth’s carapace?



No angel, but the very light
And fire in spirit of Her,

Unmitigated, eremite,
The unmanifested myrrh,

Ocean, and night that is not night,
The mother-mediator.8


O sacred spirit of the Gods!9
O triple tongue!10 Descend,

Lapping the answering flame than nods,
Kissing the brows that bend

Uniting all earth’s periods
To one exalted end.


Still on the mystic Tree of Life
My soul is crucified;11

Still strikes the sacrificial knife
Where lurks some serpent-eyed

Fear, passion, or man’s deadly wife
Desire, the suicide!


Before me dwells the Holy One
Anointed Beauty’s King;12

Behind me, mightier than the Sun,
To whom the cherubs sing,

A strong archangel,13 known of none,
Comes crowned and conquering.


An angel stands on my right hand
With strength of ocean’s wrath;14

Upon my left the fiery brand
Charioted fire smites forth:15

Four great archangels to withstand
The furies of the path.16



Flames on my front the fiery star,
About me and around.17

Pillared, the sacred sun, afar,
Six symphonies of sound;

Flames, as the Gods themselves that are;
Flames, in the abyss profound.18


The spread arms drop like thunder! So
Rings out the lordlier cry,

Vibrating through the streams that flow
In ether to the sky,

The moving archipelago,
Stars in their seigneury.


Thine be the kingdom! Thine the power!
The glory triply thine!19

Thine, through Eternity’s swift hour,
Eternity, thy shrine —

Yea, by the holy lotus-flower,
Even mine!20



O WORLD of moonlight! Visionary vale
Of ocean-sleeping mountains! Mighty chasm

Within whose wild abyss there chants the pale,
The dolorous phantasm

Of wrecked white womanhood! The wizard cold

Grips the mute valley in his grasp of gold!



Yonder the hatred of the dismal steep
Sweeps up to wrathful thunders, that are curled

In billowy menace, as the deadlier deep
That menaces the world

With breaking foam: so hangs the glacier, rent

By giant sunrays, in the frost-grip pent.


Yonder again rears up the craggy wall
Its cleaving head to heaven: thither I

Clomb the vast terrors, where the echoing fall
Roars stony from the sky.

Thither I pressed at midnight, and the dawn

Saw my swift feet move faster than the fawn.


Pale seas of blue soft azure lie beyond,
Far o’er the gleaming green: the smoke is risen

Out of the cloudy north; the incense-wand
That binds dead souls in prison,

That prison of the day, when sleepless dead

Rest for awhile from agony and dread.


Strange! how a certain fear possesses me
Alone amid their crag-bound solitude.

Even beyond the keen delight — to Be —
Steals that diviner mood

Of wonder at the miracle — the plan

Of Nature crowned by the astounding Man!


The secret of the Lord is set with him
That wonders at His majesty:22 his praise

Wells from no trembler’s misery: his hymn
Swells the exultant day’s.

His psalm wings upward, and reflected down

Even in Hell makes music and renown.


Yea! for the echo of the anthem rolls
Down to the lost unfathomable deep.

Down, to the darkness of all shades and souls,
The founts of music sweep.

Even the devils in the utter night

Feel it the saving, not the avenging light.



Yea! for the worship of my secret song
Vibrates through every chasm of the world:

Its sound is caught by angels, and made strong!
By sylphs, and dewed, and pearled

With fairy melodies, and borne, alone,

Aloft, to the immeasurable throne.


O mighty palace of immortal stone!
O glamour of the fathomless gray snow!

O clouds! O whirlwinds of my mountain throne!
I charge your souls to go

Unto the souls of men, and bid them rise

Toward redemption, and the unsullied eyes.


I charge you go and whisper unto men
The solemn glories of your secret mind,

Making them pure, and wise; return ye then
Unto your proper kind,

Having thus offered water, blood, and tears,

For the remission of our carrion years.23


So deepen all the mountains: even so
The wandering shadows close upon the day;

The sunlight burns its fading ruby glow
On the chaotic way.

Night falls, and I must tread the dizzy steep

Again, to plunge to the devouring deep.


The blessing of the Highest shall be set
On your white heads, O monarchs of the snow!

The blessing of the Highest, lightening yet
The burdens that ye know.

So, as three golden arrows of the sun

Strike, may the threefold sacrament be One!


O visionary valley of my Soul!
When shall thy beauty, even thine, be made

As pure and mighty as these hills that roll
In mist and sun and shade?

O thou! the Highest! make my will as thine,

My consciousness, the consciousness divine!



O MAN of Sorrows: brother unto Grief!
O pale with suffering, and dumb hours of pain!
O worn with Thought! thy purpose springs again

The Soul of Resurrection: thou art chief

And lord of all thy mind: O patient thief
Of God's own fire! What mysteries find fane
In the white shrine of thy white spirit's reign,

Thou man of Sorrows: O, beyond belief!


Let perfect Peace be with thee: let thy days
Prosper in spite of thine unselfish soul;

And as thou lovest, so let Love increase

Upon thee and about thee: till thy ways
Gleam with the splendour of that secret goal

Whose long war grows the great abiding peace.



I SEE the centuries wax and wane.

I know their mystery of pain,
The secrets of the living fire,

The key of life: I live: I reign:
For I am master of desire.


Silent, I pass amid the folk

Caught in its mesh, slaves to its yoke.
Silent, unknown, I work and will

Redemption, godhead’s master-stroke,
And breaking of the wands of ill.



No man hath seen beneath my brows

Eternity’s exultant house.
No man hath noted in my brain

The knowledge of my mystic spouse.
I watch the centuries wax and wane.


Poor, in the kingdom of strong gold,

My power is swift and uncontrolled.
Simple, amid the maze of lies;

A child, among the cruel old,
I plot their stealthy destinies.


So patient, in the breathless strife;

So silent, under scourge and knife;
So tranquil, in the surge of things;

I bring them from the well of Life,
Love, from celestial water-springs!


From the shrill fountain-head of God

I draw out water with the rod
Made luminous with light of power.

I seal each aeon’s period,
And wait the moment and the hour.


Aloof, alone, unloved, I stand

With love an worship in my hand.
I commune with the Gods: I wait

Their summons, and I fire the brand.
I speak their Word: and there is Fate.


I know no happiness, no pain,

No swift emotion, no disdain,
No pity: but the boundless light

Of the Eternal Love, unslain,
Flows through me to redeem the night.


Mine is a sad-slow life: but I,

I would not gain release, and die
A moment ere my task be done.

To falter now were treachery —
I should not dare to greet the sun!


Yet, in one hour I dare not hope,

The mighty gate of Life may ope,
And call me upwards to unite

(Even my soul within the scope)
With That Unutterable Light. {207B}


Steady of purpose, girt with Truth,

I pass, in my eternal youth,
And watch the centuries wax and wane:

Untouched by Time’s corroding tooth,
Silent, immortal, unprofane!


My empire changes not with time.

Men’s kingdoms cadent as a rhyme
Move me as waves that rise and fall.

They are the parts, that crash or climb;
I only comprehend the All.


I sit, as God must sit; I reign.

Redemption from the threads of pain
I weave, until the veil be drawn.

I burn the chaff, I glean the grain;
In silence I await the dawn.


LIBERTINE touches of small fingers creep
Among my curls to-night: pale ghastly kisses

Like mournful ghosts roused from their ruined sleep
By clamorous cries of murder. Strange abysses

Loom in the vista keen eyes penetrate,

Vague forecasts of immeasurable fate.


O thou beloved blood, that wells and weeps!
O thou beloved mouth, that beats and bleeds!

O mystic bosom where some serpent sleeps,
Sweet mockery of a thousand saintlier creeds!

Even I, that breathe your perfume, taste your breath,

Know, even this hour, ye are not life, but death!


No death ye bring more godlike than desire,
When seas roar tempest-lashed, and foam is flung


Raging on pitiless crags, and gloomy fire
Lurks in the master-cloud; corpses are swung

Helpless and horrible in trough and crest —

That death were music, and the lord of rest.


No death ye bring as when the storm is rolled,
An imminent giant on the sun-ripped snows,

Where icy fingers grip the overbold
Son of their secrets, and like springes close

On his choked throat and frozen body — Nay!

That death were twilight, and the gate of Day!


No death ye bring as his, that grips the flag
In desperate fingers, and with bloody sword

Flames up the thundering breach, while bastioned crag,
Glacis, and pent-house belch their monstrous horde

Of hideous engines shattering — this strife

Clears the straight road of Glory and of Life!


Nay: but the hateful death that stings the soul
Into rebellion; the insensate death

That chokes its own delight with words that roll
Mightier-mouthed than the archangel’s breath;

The death that murders courage ere it drink

The soul’s own life-blood on the desperate brink!


So, from the languid fingers in my curls
And dreamy worship of a woman’s eyes,

I look beyond the miserable whirls
Of foolish measures woven in the skies;

Beyond the thoughtless stars: beyond God’s sleep:

Beyond the deep: beneath the deadly deep!



Infinite rings of luminous ether move
At first amid the blackness that I seek:

Infinite motion and amazing love
Deaden the lustre of the night. I speak

The cry of silence, that is heard unspoken;

That, being heard, rings evermore unbroken.


Silence, deep silence. Not a shudder stirs
The vast demesne of unforgetful space,

No comet’s lunatic rush; no meteor whirs,
No star dares breathe, no planet knows his place

In that supreme unquiet quietude.

I am the master of my own deep mood.


I am the master. Yea, no doubt I rule
The whole mad universe by will extended26

Who whispers then, “O miserable fool!
This night thy might and majesty are ended;

Thy soul shall be required of thee”? I heard

This voice, and knew it for my proper word!


Yes, mine own voice: the higher spirit speaks,
Stemming the hands that guide, the arms that hold,

Even the infinite brain: that spirit seeks
A loftier dawn of more ephemeral gold —

Ephemeral, and eternal: droop thine head,

O God! for thou must suffer this: I said!


Droop thy wide pinions, O thou mortal God!
Sink thy vast forehead, and let Life consume

The miserable life thy feet have trod
Beneath them, that thine own life in its doom

Fall, in its resurrection to arise;

Stoop, that its holier hope may cleave the skies.


Power, power, and power! O single sacrifice
On thine own altar: let thy savour steam

Up, through the domes of broken Paradise;
Up, by Euphrates27 unimagined stream;

Up, by strange river and mysterious lawn

To some impossible diadem of dawn!



So the mere orderly ruling of events
Shall change and blossom to a finer flower

Until it serve to worlds and elements
For aspiration in the nobler hour —

Not mere repression, but the hope and crown

Of fallen hierarchies no more cast down.


O misery of triple love and grief
And hope! O joy of hatred and despair

And happiness! The little hour is brief,
And the lithe fingers soothe the listless hair

Less, and the kisses swoon to tenderer sighs

And little sobs of sleeping ecstasies.


No! for the envy of the infinite
Crushes the juice from out the poppy’s stem,

And brown-stained fingers wring the petals white.
And weary lips seek lotus-life in them

Vainly: the lotus burns above the tomb —

Yea, but in thought’s unfathomable womb!


For spiritual life and love and light
Climb the swayed ladder of our various fate;

The steep rude stair that mocks the hero’s might,
Casts off the wise, and crumbles with the great.

Yet from the highest crown no blossom fell,

Save one, to bring salvation unto Hell.


O angel of my spiritual desire!28
O luminous master of the silver feet!

O passionate rose of infinite white fire!
O cross of sacrifice made bitter-sweet!

O wide-wing, star-brow, veritable lord!

O mystic bearer of the flaming sword!


O brows half see, O visionary star
Seen in the fragrant breezes of the East!

O lover of my love, O avatar
Of the All-One, O mystical High Priest!

O thou before whose eyes my weak eyes fail,

Wonderful warden of the Holy Grail!



O thou, mine angel, whom these eyes have seen,
These hands have handled, and this mouth has kissed!

O thou, the very tongue of fire, the clean
Sweet-scented presence of a holier Christ!

Listen, and answer, and behold! My wings

Droop, O thou stronger than the immortal kings!


My flame burns dim! O bring the broken jar
And alabaster casket, and dispense

The oil that flows from that supernal star,
And holy fountains of the Influence.29

Bring peace, and strength, and quicken in my heart

Mastery of night-fear and the day-flung dart.


Yea! from the limit of the fallen day,
And barren ocean of ungathered Time,

Bring Night, and bring Eternity, and stay
With white wings pointing where tired feet may climb:

Even the pathway where shed blood ran deep

To build red roses in the land of Sleep.


O guardian of the palled hours of night!
O tireless watcher of the smitten noon!

O sworded with the majesty of light,
O girded with the glory of the moon!

Angel of absolute splendour! Link of mine

Old weary spirit with the All-Divine!


Ship that shalt carry me by many winds
Driven on the limitless ocean! Mighty sword,

By which I force that barrier of the mind’s
Miscomprehension of its own true lord!

Listen, and answer, and behold my brow

Fiery with hope! Bend down, and touch it now!



Press the twin dawn of thy desirous lips
In the swart masses of my hair; bend close,

And shroud all earth in masterless eclipse,
While my heart’s murmur through thy being flows,

To carry up the prayer, as incense teems

Skyward, to those immeasurable streams!


Breathe the creative Sign upon my mouth
That even the body may become the soul:

Cry, as the chained Eagle of the South,
“A house of death,30 and make my spirit whole!

Touch with pure balm the five mysterious wounds!

Come! come away! but not your mighty sounds!30


O wind of all the world! O silent river!
O sea of seas! O flower of all flowers

O fire! O spirit! Beam thou on for ever
Through aeons of illimitable hours!

Kiss thy my forehead, let thy tender breath

Woo me to life, and my desire to death!


I shall be ready for it by-and-by,
That sharp initiation, when the whole

Body is torn with sundering pangs, and I,
The very conscious essence of the soul,

Am rent with agony, as when the pale

Christ heard the shriek of the dividing veil.


That awful mystery, its heart torn out,
Palpitates on the altar-stone of life:

That broken self, that hears the triumph-shout
Of its own voice beneath the falling knife,

When, like a bad dream changing, swiftly grows

A new soul’s joy, a fuller-petalled rose.


Many the spirits broken for one man;
Many the men that perish to create

One God the more; many the weary and wan
Old Gods that die to constitute a Fate:

How many Fates then, think you, must control

The stainless aspiration of the soul?



Not one. I tell you, destiny is sure,
Yet moves no finger: though it tune my tongue,

My tongue hall tune it too: my words endure
As destiny decays: my hands are flung

In prayer to Heaven nay, to mine own crown,

To raise myself, and not to drag it down!31


O holiest Lord of the divine white flame
Of brilliance sworded in the temple sky!

O thou who knowest my most secret name,
Who whisperest when only thou and I

Make up our universe: bestow thy kiss:

Arise! Come, let us pierce the old abyss!


Rise! Move! Appear! Let us go forth together,
Into the solemn passionless profound,

Into the darkness, and the thrilling weather,
Into the silence louder than all sound,

Into the vast implacable inane!

Come, let us journey thither once again!


ROLL through the caverns of matter, the world's irremovable bounds!

Roll, ye wild billows of ether! the Sistron32 is shaken and sounds!

Wild and sonorous the clamour, vast in the region of death,

Live with the fire of the Spirit, the essence and flame of the breath!

Sound, O sound!



Gleam in the world of the dark, where the chained ones shall tremble and flee!

Gleam in the skies of the dusk, for the Light of the Dawn is in me!

Light on the forehead, and life in the nostrils, and love in the breast,

Shine, O thou Star of the Dawning, thou Sun of the Radiant Crest!

Shine, O shine!


Flame through the sky in the strength of the chariot-wheels of the Sun!

Flame, ye young fingers of light, on the West of the morning that run!

Flame, O thou Meteor Car, for my fire is exalted in thee!

Lighten the darkness and herald the day-light, and awaken the sea!

Flame, O flame!


Crown Her, O crown Her with stars as with flowers for a virginal gaud!

Crown Her, O crown Her with Light and the flame of the down-rushing Sword!

Crown Her, O crown Her with Love for maiden and mother and wife!

Hail unto Isis! Hail! For She is the Lady of Life!

Isis crowned!



THE ghosts of abject days flit by;
The bloated goblins of the past;

Dim ghouls in soulless apathy;
Fates imminent, and dooms aghast!

O Mother Mout,33 O Mother Night,

Give me the Sun of Life and Light!34



The shadows of my hopes devoured,
The crown of my intent cast down,

The hate that shone, the love that lowered,
Make up God's universal frown.

O Lord, O Hormakhou,35 display

The rosy earnest of the day!


The mighty pomp of desolate
Dead kings, a pageant, moves along;

Dead queens unite in desperate,
Unsatisfied, unholy song.

O Khephra,36 manifest in flesh,

Arise, create the world afresh!


The silence of my heart is one
With memory's insatiate night;

I hardly dare to hope the sun.
I seek the darkness, not the light.

O Lord Harpocrates,37 be still

The moveless centre of my will!


My sorrows are more manifold
Than His that bore the sins of man.

My sins are like the starry fold,
My hopes their desolation wan.

O Nuit,38 the starry one, arise,

And set thy starlight in my skies!


In darkness, in the void abyss,
I grope with vain despairing arms.

The silence as a serpent is,
The rustle of the world alarms.

O Horus,39 Light in Darkness, bless

My failure with thine own success!


My suffering is keen as theirs
That in Amenti taste of death;


Not mine own pains create these prayers:
For them I claim the living Breath.

O Lord Osiris,40 bend and bring

All winters to thy sign of Spring!


Poor folly mine: I cannot see
Save from one corner of one star!

So many millions over me;
So many, and the next, how far!

O Wisdom-crowned Ta-hu-ti,41 lend

Thy magic: let my light extend!42


I cannot comprehend one truth.
My sight is biassed, and my mind —

One snake-skin though is of its youth;
Grows old, and casts the slough behind.

O Themis,43 Lady of the plume,

Shed thy twin godhead in the gloom!


How ugly is this life of mine!
How slimes it in the terrene mud!

Clouds hide the beauty all-divine,
The moonlight has a mist of blood.

O Hathoor,44 Lady of the West,

Take thy sad lover to thy breast!


Even the perfumes of the dawn
Intoxicate, deceive the soul.

Let every shadow be withdrawn!
Let there be Light, supreme and whole!

O Ra,45 thou golden Lord of Day,

The Sun of Righteousness display!


The burden is so hard to bear.
It took too adamant a cross;

This sackcloth rends my soul to wear;
My self-denial is as dross!

O Shu,46 that holdest up the sky,

Hold thou thy servant, lest he die!



Nature is one with my distress.
The flowers are dull, the stars are pale.

I am the Soul of Nothingness.
I cannot lift the golden veil.

O Mother Isis,47 let thine eyes

Behold my grief, and sympathise!


I cannot round the perfect wheel,
Attain not to the fuller end.

In part I love, in part I feel,
Know, worship, will, and comprehend.

O mother Nephthys,48 fill me up
Thine own perfection's deadly cup!


My aspiration quails within me;
“My heart is fixed,” in vain I cry;

The little loves and whispers win me: —
“Eli, lama sabacthani!”


O Chomse,49 moon-god, grant thy boon,

The silver pathway of the moon!


Beyond the Glory of the Dawn,
Beyond the Splendour of the Sun,

Thy secret Spirit is withdrawn,
The plumes of the Concealed One.

Amoun!50 upon the Cross I cry,

“I am Osiris, even I!”


O Thou! the All, the many-named,
The One in many manifest:

Let not my spirit be ashamed,
But win to its eternal rest!

Thou Self from Nothing! bring Thou me
Unto that Self which is in Thee!




{full page below}



1. Describes the spiritual aspect of the “Lesser Ritual of the Pentagram,” which we append, with its explanation. The abstruse nature of many of these poems is well reflected in this one.

(i.) Touching the forehead, say Ateh (Unto Thee).

(ii.) Touching the breast, say Malkuth (the Kingdom).

(iii.) Touching the right shoulder, say ve-Geburah (and The Power).

(iv.) Touching the left shoulder, say ve-Gedulah (and the Glory).

(v.) Clasping the hands upon the breast, say le-Olahm, Amen (to the Ages, Amen).

(vi.) Turning to the East, make a pentagram with the proper weapon. Say יהוה.

(vii.) Turning to the South, the same, but say אדני.

(viii.) Turning to the West, the same, but say אהיה.

(ix.) Turning to the North, the same, but say אגלא.

(x.) Extending the arms in the form of a cross, say —

(xi.) Before me Raphael,

(xii.) Behind me Gabriel,

(xiii.) On my right hand Michael,

(xiv.) On my left hand Auriel,

(xv.) for about me flames the Pentagram,

(xvi.) and in the Column stands the six-rayed Star.

(xvii.-xxi.) Repeat (i.) to (v.), the “Qabalistic Cross.”

Those who regard this ritual as a mere device to invoke or banish spirits, are unworthy to possess it. Properly understood it is the Medicine of metals and the Stone of the Wise. [Author’s Note.]

2. This ritual was given to Neophytes of the Order of the Golden Dawn.

3. The moon, as before, signifies Aspiration to the Highest.

4. For the “Flaming Sword” is the “Pentagram unwound.”

5. The arms being extended, and the magus being clad in a Tau-shaped robe and nemmes. The sacred Egyptian headdress, his figure would cast a shadow resembling the Ankh, of “Key of Life.”

6. Khabs am Pekht. Konx om Pax. Light in Extension. The mystic words which seal the current of light in the sphere of the aspirant.

7. Cf. Omar Khayyam the Sufi.

8. Binah, the reveler of the Triad of Light.

9. Ruach Elohim (see Genesis i.) adds up to 300 = ש = Fire.

10. ש by shape hath a triple tongue.

11. These archangels are at points on the “Tree of Life” which cause them to surround as described one who is “crucified” thereon.

12. Raphael dwells in Tiphereth, Beauty.

13. Gabriel, dweller in Yesod, where are the Kerubim.

14. Michael, lord of Hod, an Emanation of a watery nature.

15. Auriel, archangel of Netzach, to which Fire is attributed.

16. The path of ת, or Saturn and Earth, which leads from Malkuth to Yesod indeed, but is dark and illusory. This first step upward attracts the bitterest opposition of all the Enemies of the Human Soul.

17. As asserted in the ritual.

18. It flames both above and beneath the magus, who is thus in a cube of 4 pentagrams and 2 hexagrams, 32 points in all. And 32 is אהיהוה, the sacred word that expresses the Unity of the Highest and the Human.

19. As in ritual.

20. Supreme affirmation of Unity with the Highest in the Lotus, the universal symbol of Attainment.

21. Composed during a solitary ramble across the Col du Géant.

22. See the Psalms of David. “Wonders” is a correcter rendering than “fears.”

23. See the Prayer of the Undines, given by Eliphaz Levi and some other writers on occult subjects.

24. Now a Buddhist recluse in Burma. In England he was a martyr to spasmodic asthma, which, however, could not quench, could hardly dull even, the fire of his soul.

25. Supposed to have escaped from Flodden, and become an Adept: to have reappeared as the “Comte de St. Germain,” and later (so hinted Mr. S. L. Mathers) as Mr. S. L. Mathers.

26. “Cf.” Fichte.

27. Or Phrath, the Fourth River of the Mystic Eden, flowing from Tiphereth to Yesod.

28. The “Genius” of Socrates; the “Holy Guardian Angel” of Abramelin the Mage; or the “Higher Self” of the Theosophists.

29. From Kether, the Vast Countenance, are said to flow “13 fountains of magnificent oil” through Mezla, the Influence, upon Tiphereth, the Lesser Countenance.

30 (a & b). See the “48 Calls or Keys” of Dr. Dee, from which this is quoted.

31. An allusion to the sign called “Enterer of the Threshold,” in which the Egyptian Gods often stand. It is a sign of high initiation (if you know the rest!) and implies the gathering of force from the Gods and its projection as will toward any object.

32. A musical instrument used for religious purposes by the Egyptians. It consisted of an oval framework (with a handle) crossed by four wires loosely fixed, which on being shaken gave forth a musical sound.

33. Mout, the Vulture Goddess of The Womb of Years.

34. “Mother, give me the Sun!” This, the tragedy-word of Ibsen's”Ghosts,“ served as inception — by reversal — of this poem.

35. The Dawn-God.

36. The Beetle-Headed God, who brings light out of darkness, for He is the Sun at Midnight.

37. God of Silence. Usually shown as a child.

38. The bowed Goddess of the Stars. Shown as a naked woman, her hands and feet on the earth, the arms and legs much elongated, so that her body arches the firmament.

39. The Hawk-headed Lord of Strength, the Avenger of Osiris' death.

40. The Redeemer by His suffering.

41. Thoth, the Ibis God. Equivalent to the higher Hermes.

42. Khabs am Pekht again.

43. Goddess of Justice.

44. Goddess of Beauty and Love.

45. The Hawk-headed God, the Sun in his strength.

46. The Egyptian Atlas — a rebours.

47. Nature: the beginning.

48. Perfection: the end.

49. See previous explanation of moon-symbolism.

50. The Supreme and Concealed One. Osiris, justified by trial, purified through suffering, can at the moment of his crucifixion — which is also his equilibration — attain to him.


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