Thelema A Tone Testament


LIFE that is lost in dullard

Dreams of the senses, go!

Life, by the soul fair-coloured,

Thy valiant trumpets blow!

Far from the world where love is lust,

And work is pain, and wealth is dust,

Rise on the wings of love, and soar

To the sun's self, the eternal shore

Where flaming streamers soar and roll,

Angels to guard its secret soul,

The Garden where my love and I

May walk to all eternity.

Who dares to force the fiery gate

May win our world inviolate.

Children whose hearts are passionate;

Maidens whose flesh is fair and fain,

And men whose souls no senses stain,

Come! These mad miles of flame of ours

Are cool as springs and fresh as flowers.


And thou, sole star in my black firmament!

Thou, night that wraps me close, thou, moon that


Chaste, yet embraced, serenest element

Lapping my life as the sea laps a swimmer's;

Thou, by whose strength and purity and love

I leave this land, attain to the above,

Come thou rose-red, break on my soul like dawn

And gild my peaks, and bid their fountains flow

For in thine absence all their life withdrawn

Congealed my being to a sterile snow,

Snow fallen from some accursed star to ban

All the high hope and heritage of man.

Come thou, a gleaming goddess of pure pearl,

Price of mine homage to the great glad god!

Come, saint and satyr praise alike the girl

Who to my whole life put the period

Of all fulfilment, whose prophetic breath

Girds me with life, and garlands me with death.

Come, be thy magic in the rime and rhythm,

Until the sea sways to the tender tune,

And the winds whisper, and the leaves wave with them,

The leaves wherethrough we look upon the moon,

So that men hear me of the world within

Secure from sorrow, sanctified from sin,


The world of stranger deities and loves

Than haunted Ida, or were hidden in

The Cretan bowers, the Elusinian goves,

A world that trembles on thy violin,

Eager to be — and then the curtain drops

Just as thy music, with my heart's pulse, stops.

Nay! To this world of ours they shall not reach.

My rimes are shadows dancing in the breeze

By moonlight; there is no delight in speech

Such as the silence of our own heart's ease;

But even thy shadow is itself a sun

To the bleak universe of Everyone.

Then open sesame! The fairy cavern

Of gold and gems, strange land of misty truth,

As witches’ eyes in a polluted tavern

Glow with the vampire vanity of youth

Stolen from maids, so let thine own eyes shine

In this fantastic mystery of thine!

Thine eyes are love and truth and loyalty;

Thine eyes are mystery unveiled to one.

Let them ray forth incarnate deity

Fit to assoil the eclipse-attainted sun!

Let them point still my weather-beaten soul

Infallibly the pathway of the pole!



This is an official archive of the Leila Waddell Memorial Web Site hosted by Hermetic Library