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®RHA®RM65¯¯®MDRV¯®PR WordStar/Xywrite Conversion¯®PR WSfn= 0-00-80¯®MDNM¯®MD167¯®PR Wordstar defaults -¯®MDNM¯®RM65¯®PL58¯®RFA®RM65¯®FC¯®PN¯®FL¯¯®OF8¯®TS8,16,24,32,40,48,56,64,72,80,88,96,104,112,120,128,136¯ PROEMMaster, I come, but ere the pregnant gloomLighten at last, I ask myself for whomI take the pen, since English throbs and glowsForth from its gold, like streams from sunny snows.And if I write for England, who will read?As if, when moons of Ramadan recede,Some fatuous angel-porter should depositHis perfect wine within the privy closet!"What do they know, who only England know?"Only what England paints its face to show.Love mummied and relabelled "chaste affection,"And lust excused as "natural selection".Caligula upbraids the cruel cabby,And Nero birches choir-boys in the Abbey;Semiramis sandpapered to a simper,And Clytemaestra whittled to a whimper!The austerities of Loyola? to seek!But--let us have a "self-denial week!"The raptures of Teresa are hysteric,But --let us giggle at some fulsome cleric!"The age refines! You lag behind. "God knows!Plus ca change,plus c'est la meme chose.That Crowley knows you as you are--that fret.He buys no doctored dung for violets!Your smug content, your Puritan surprise,All lies,and lies; all lies, and lies, and lies!Pathics from Eton, ever on their knees,Amazed at their twin brothers the Chinese!Pathics from Harrow, reeking of Patchouli,Shocked at the vice of the Mongolian coolie!Canons of Westminster, with boy-rape sterile,Hope Christ may save us from the Yellow Peril!To call forced labour slavery is rude,"Terminologic inexactitude."This from the masters of the winds and wavesWhose cotton-mills are crammed with British slaves!Men pass their nights with German-Jewish whores,Their days in keeping "aliens" from our shores.They turn their eyes up at a Gautier's tale,And run a maisonette in Maida Vale.Murder poor Wakley-- the assassin leavesEscorted by the Yards's blackmailing thieves,Lest dead men (or their papers) should tell talesAnd maybe compromise the Prince of Wales.Arrest poor Wilde -- the creaking Channel tubsGroan with the consternation of the Clubs.Scared, hushed, and pale, our men of eminenceWait the result in sickening suspense.Announced, all Mayfair shrieks its decent joy;And, feeling safe, goes out and hires a boy.Your title -- oh! how proud you are to wear them?--What about "homo quatuor literarum?"The puissant all their time to vice devote;The impotent (contented) pay to gloat.The strumpet's carwheels splash the starving maidenIn Piccadilly, deadlier than Aden."England expects a man to do his duty."He calls truth lies, and sneers at youth and beauty,Pays cash for love and fancies he has won it --Duty means church, where he thanks God he's done it!Morley's Hotel is the one stance to seeOur Nelson from! --Oh God! that I should beAlone among this slime! -- I saw Thy Graal:Show me the men that have not bowed to Baal!For as I love with spirit and with senseI nauseate at this crawling crapulence,Our whole state, summed in one supreme enigma,Solved (in a second) by a simpleMonstrous conjunctions with black man and bruteLevel our ladies with the prostitute:Our spinsters chaste in criminal abortion,And matron with the pox for marriage portion;Husbands who pimp all day for their young wives,Athletes from Oxford, pathic all their lives,Who sport the "so" coat, the sotadic necktie,And lisp their filthy pun "Mens conscia recti!"Priest who are celibates -- outside of choir!Maidens who rave in Lesbian desire:The buck of sixty, cunning as a trapper,Stalking the pig-tailed, masturbating flapper;The creeping Jesus -- Caution! we may shock it!With one hand through his torn-out breeches pocket;Flagellates shrieking in our streets and schools,Our men all hogs, and all our women ghouls:This is our England, pious dame and prude,Who calls me blasphemous, unchaste, and rude!Come to sweet air, poor sirens of the stews!A pox on all these yammering Yahoos!My healthy sperm begets the Son of GodWinged with the dawn and with the star-stream shod!Not on your purulence and ichorous itch,O English girl, half baby and half bitch,But on the glorious body and soul of herOf whom I am the Lord and worshipper,The brave gay cleanly maiden whose embraceFlushes with shameless fervour the fair face,Fills the whole leaping heaven with the lightTill all the world is drunken with delight.You with your own authentic filth defiledRobbed Keats of life, and Shelley of his child,Corrupted Swinburne to your foul disease,Denied Blake bread -- are you fed full on these?You hate the wise, true, beautiful, and holy: --Dogs! is there nothing you can do to Crowley?®PR ........................¯Therefore I see and speak, who would be dumbAnd blind: but Thou dost call. Master, I come, ALEISTER CROWLEY. THE PERSONS OF THE PROLOGUESATYRS MEN Marsyas Anaximander Silenus Lysander Chiron AnaxagorasNYMPHS HERMAPHRODITES Chrysis Rhodon Doris Salmacis Atthis ErotionGIRLS FAUNS Rhodope Heliorus Erinna Hyacinthus Evadne OlympasYOUNG BOYS Antinous Giton Hylas OTHERS Heracleitus, a philosopher Chrysippus, his disciple Yaugh Waugh, a man vulture A lambkin A dove THE PERSONS OF THE TRAGEDYAlexander, a wise king, ruling Macedon, Babylonia, etc.Two SatyrsA fair man childTwo nymphsMiriam, a Syrian GirlA white robed youthLegions of apes, worms, and monstersAgrippa, a Roman CenturyPublis, his lieutenantA Roman guardA hagA blue faced baboonAn oxZakariah, an assGovinda, kind of the IndinesChau, Son of Heaven, king of Tartary and ChinaA company of ratsA company of toadsA brass bottle containing a mannikin in blueIssa, the grown man thereofMagda, an odalisqueJohn, a young scribleBystanders PROLOGUE THE GARDEN OF EROSSee, in a glade of green moss, watered by a spring, a merry company languidly playing. Flutes, and harps, and panpipes are there; and on wonderful chased silver, figured with the loves of the gods, are cups of beaded wine, and fruits, and honey, and cakes of divers sort. It is night, but the moon is exceeding bright; and the stars shine in the self-luminous blue of the vault. Around the glade are many trees;the ground is a mass of®MD167¯®RM255¯®MDNM¯flowers, and gathered roses cover the white limbs of many of the players.One girl is standing, and a full nightingale song trills from the players,a vulture vast and vague in his black night of shadow. His face is human,®MD167¯®RM65¯®MDNM¯of the ovine type, as that of a low-class Jew. He watches the scene throughout in silence, but with intense envy disguised as disgust. DORIS Praise the wine wittily! Praise the wine well! Footing it prettily Down through the dell. Are there not playmates Enough and to spare, Gallant and gay to spare, Each one of us fair? Bountiful measures of Beautiful wine: Infinite treasures of Bacchus divine! Hail to the Lord of us! Blithe is his reign. Be thou adored of us, Soul without stain! Fair are the faces, and Limbs of us light, Tracing the paces, and Drunk with delight. Io! let us tremble in Trance of the tune Here that assemble in Joyaunce of June! ATTHIS Doris, our darling! How subtle and sweet The throb of thy throat to the flit of our feet! Come, I have chosen thee. DORIS Follow me then Deep in the dance to the heart of the glen! MARSYAS Ho! you are rich, you are red, you are ripe! Pace me your passions to plaint of my pipe! OLYMPAS Nay, I am with thee, my master, to match Every my song to thy lyrical catch. EROTION Nay, let us follow you - all in a ring! Wonder of wisdom and wit on the wing! ANAXIMANDER Come, my Giton, of the hyacinth hair! Apollo, Apollo! indeed they are fair! HYLAS Kiss me again, my Lysander, my love! Listen! Olympas is singing above. LYSANDER Ah! but Erotion beckons me yonder! Beautiful curls on her bosom that wander Tempt me to folly. HYLAS Indeed, let us press The exquisite doubt in a certain Lysander LYSANDER Even as the feet of the maid on the grapes Crush the wine of delight from ambiguous shapes! OLYMPAS Shrill, shrill the never-cloying Thirst of maid's enthusiasm! Atthis with her Doris toying In the moonlight filled with laughter, Wrestling, kissing - follow after To the summit of the spasm! CHIRON Ho, shall we sit idle gazing On such beauty spirit-crazing? No, my ladies, I'm the song! ATTHIS We can sing you! DORIS Sweet and strong! ANAXAGORAS Laughter, laughter! I'm for thee, Doris of the blue-black tresses! Mine are musical caresses Like the murmur of the sea. HYCINTHOS Chiron, shall we dance with these Under the acacia trees? CHIRON Yes, if Rhodon there will lend us Her red fleece-like sunset glowing, With the doubtful venture showing Where-what God shall there befriend us? RHODON Mocker! I shall come. Beware Lest my manhood match you there! SILENUS Ha, you rouge, if Rhodon rage, Poets earn a cynic page; And our lips with laughter curl If she treat you as a girl. CHIRON Brute, get back to wine,and leave us In our flower-love to inweave us. All we know the shameless chorus: "Fie! Silenus-Heliorus!" HELIORUS I had better right to mock you, Graceless Chiron, with the quip (Girls, come close-the jest will shock you) "Pine-tree with the drooping tip!" CHIRON Oh, you little toad of spite! Come, and I will set you right. All you year of wantoness Shall not save you - much distress. HELIORUS Yes - the pain I had before. "At the game that Chiron shouldn't, Chiron would - and Chiron couldn't" RHODON Never heed the little whore! Play a melody, Marsyas! HELIORUS He's at Anaxagoras! RHODOPE Where is Doris, then? ERRINNA By Zeus, Where her ribs are all in use! ANTINOUS Sprinkle me with poppy-juice From the flowers of Syracuse On the lips relaxed with pleasure Of their kisses overmeasure! Let them suck the heavenly sleep! Let me sink into the deep! Till the morning pale and fresh Find my flesh against his flesh, And mine eyes within his eyes Watch the sun of glory rise! All my breath is like new wine. I have flaxen hair and fine. From my shoulders to my feet Like the sunlight in the wheat! If I laugh, the moon-curved pearls Match and master any weep, If I weep, as joy may weep, Of Dione dropped its dew Through the vivid veil of blue. I am limber like a snake. I am soft, and slow to slake-- For a curling, crimson fire Floods my lips and feeds desire. I am passionate and pale; Virile - and most faery frail. All diverse delights are mine. Kiss within me, and combine To a languorous lyric lure Sweet as pleasure, and as sure! SILENUS Tut, my lad, you do not mention Modesty. ANTINOUS 'Twas mine intention, But those loose lips wine-corrupt Always itch to interrupt! SILENUS Nay, boy, all the song was true. Come and frisk it once together! Ah, the goodly Grecian Weather! Ah, the heavenly haze of blue, That must set an azure frame Round the flaxen locks aflame! CHRYSIS Come, Evadne, let us fling Flowers upon them gambolling! EVADNE Chrysis! could one weary of All thine opulence of love? CHRYSIS I am fair; I cannot fear. Was my tongue too eager, dear? EVADNE Never, never, never! Here, Coil the roses close, a cluster In the flax, the lyric lustre! CHRYSIS In the white waves that carouse On the satyr's beetle brows, Plait a wreath of laurustine With the broad leaves of the vine! SALMACIS Sweet Lysander, now thou knowest All the oracle obscure! LYSANDER In my soul - my soul! - thou flowest Suave and sibylline and sure. O the stream I launched this boat on! O the pool my fancies float on! I am drowned in bays of bliss-- Salmacis! - my Salmacis! HYACINTHOS Heliorus, siren! I have overmatched thee now; From the bag of Chiron Drawn a luckier lot than thou! SILENUS Come, we have dallied long enough With music and with love. Set to the wine, and slide. Each twined like vines, fair boy, fair bride, Down the long glade of sleep, At the sun's summoning. We shall be carolling, upon the steep, The happy dawn's return. We shall wake - and bathe - and burn. EROTION Now the drowsy Lord unloose All his store of poppy-juice! To the murmurous bell-clear fret of the tremulous rivulet Let us lisp the lullaby Of Arcady - in Arcady! Me ye know, the dazzling dream Of the swimmer in the stream. Boy to girl and maid to man, Mine are all joys of Pan. Chrysis seeks the darling dove, Gets the eagle to her love. Hylas, trembling towards the pine, Finds the soft voluptuous vine. RHODOPE Curl ye close! Curl ye close! Fold your petals like the rose! All the satyr's lust of limb; All the delicate and slim Slenderness of laughing faun Twine like serpents on the lawn; All the boy's undulant grace To the nymph's fantastic face; All the maiden's chaste delight To the flushed hermaphrodite; While the balanced strength of man Bears its witness unto Pan. CHRYSIS Ah, the purple vein that glows Through the eyelids as they close! Hush! the breeze that fans the fern Bids the midnight moon to turn. We must sleep Soft and deep: We must wake -- and bathe -- and burn. (The company being asleep, fallen lax in mid-caress, thereenter a Philosopher Heracleitus and his Disciple Chrysippus.) HERACLEITUS Look, my darling, and confess Life one flame of loveliness! CHRYSIPPUS Master! Master! How fairy fond Is yonder maid like a lily-frond! Let us lie on the moss by the spring, let us share In their silence serene, the languor rare! So goodly a company. HERACLITUS Wait but a moment - stand apart, Revolving the light in thine innermost heart! Content not the soul with the skin of the grape! But the truer sense than the eye and the ear Make to appear! CHRYSIPPUS Verily, master, I obey. I travel the exalted way. I pierce the sense; I gain the goal, Distill the essence of the soul -- HERACLEITUS I shroud thee in the web of wool. I lift the burden of the bull. Lion and eagle! dart ye forth Into the cold clime of the North, Where past the star points the pole Rest the unstirred axis of the soul. CHRYSIPPUS Hear then! By Abrasax! the bar Of the unshifting star Is broken - Io! Asar! My spirit is wrapt in the wind of light; It is whirled away on the wings of night, Sable-plumed are the wonderful wings, But the silver of moonlight subtly springs Into the feathers that flash with the pace Of our flight to the violate bounds of space. Time is dropt like a stone from the stars: Space is a chaos of broken bars: Being is merged in a furious flood That rages and hisses and foams in the blood. See! I am dead! I am passed, I am passed Out of the sensible world at-last. I am not. Yet I am, as I never was, A drop in the sphere of molten glass Whose radiance changes and shifts and drapes The infinite soul in finite shapes.®IP13,13¯There is light, there is life, there is love, there is senseBeyond speech, beyond song, beyond evidence.There is wonder intense, a miraculous sun,As the many are molten and mixed into oneWith the heat of its passion; the one hath invadedThe heights of its soul, and its laughter is braidedWith comets whose plumes are the galaxiesLike winds on the night's inaccessible seas.Oh master! my master! nay, bid me not rideTo the heaven beyond heaven; for I may not abide.I faint: I am frail: not a mortal may bearThe invisible light, the abundance of air.I fail: I am sinking: O Thou, be my friend!Bear me up! Bear me up! Bear me up to the end!Now! Now! In the heart of the bliss beyond beingThe None is involved in the One that, unseeing,Dashes its infinite splendour to deathBeyond light, beyond love, beyond thought, beyond breath.Ah! but my master! the death of the sun --Break, break, the last veil! It is done -- It isdone,h! but my master! the death of the sun --(He falls, as one dead, upon the grass.)®IP¯ HERACLEITUS I bless these happy virgins, souls unstained, Through whose delight my darling hath attained Even to the uttermost silence that may be Even in this vast circuit of eternity. So, o my golden charioteer, I creep Into thine arms, and dream the dream of sleep.®MD167¯®RM255¯®MDNM¯ (He sleeps. Upon the still beauty descends from his tree the man-vulture.) THE VULTURE Yaugh Waugh! Butch! this is terrible That all these people should be happy -- Pss! -- Without a thought of Me! Ga! Ga! the plague Rot them in hell! Cramp! Ague! Pox! Gout! Stone -- Hoo! What shall I do to stop it? It's sin -- sin -- sin. I hate them. Oog! I want them to go groaning Over imaginary ills With white eyes twisted up to Me, Where I sit and croak And snarl! Ugh! Faugh! I'm Yaugh Waugh! I'm Yaugh Waugh! Ga! Oa! Hoo! Hoo! Scratch! I must invent a plan To ruin all this gladness. Ha! Plup! I have it. There's nothing here That would accept my favours -- Uck! Bulch! -- So I'll abuse myself to chaos And see what comes of it. Ha -- Ba! Ha -- Ba! Ab -- ab -- ab --ab -- ab! Utch -- what is this? Coagulated yolk of the addled egg Of chaos! Hatch it out! That's why I AM. Hoo -- hoo -- hoo -- hoo -- hoo! Oh! -- now the white of the old egg is curled Into a ragged fleece. Ga! Ga! I've got a son: What will it be? O heaven -- a lamb! I'm Yaugh Waugh, Yaugh Waugh. I'll call it Yaugh Shaugh Waugh. Good! Can you talk, First born? -- I'll never have another, I'm Yaugh Waugh, Yaugh Waugh. Bow to me, you lumpy lambkin! Haw! Haw! Haw! Now at last a wooden thing That will do my business for me. Uck! Uck! The morning's carrion Bubbles in my paunch. I am belching dreadfully. What? Uck? Uck? How strange! For the windy vomit of me Shapes itself into a sorry And bedraggled pigeon. Birdie, have you got religion? Yes, he bows most properly. Come then, let us take our counsel How to stop this sad behaviour, This gross impropriety, Irreligion -- Uck! it's awful. Squat, then! Pigeon, you're the youngest: You speak first. THE DOVE Almighty father! I have magnificent And sublime and noble scheme. Listen! I will find a woman -- THE VULTURE Oh! you dirty-minded rascal! THE DOVE Wait a moment -- I will do it. Find a virgin -- if I can, And on her beget this lambkin In the image of a man. THE VULTURE That seems complicated, pigeon. We've the lamb begotten here. THE DOVE Yes, I know; it seems absurd; But in practice I am certain It will work out splendidly. THE VULTURE Well, proceed! THE DOVE Of course I will; I'm accustomed to "proceeding." Let the lamb grow up to manhood Then we'll have him whipped and tortured And eventually killed. THE VULTURE That sounds lovely. THE LAMB Do you think so?? I record my vote against it. THE DOVE Stupid! in a day or so We will have you rise again. THE LAMB Really! I may be a dullard; But I cannot see the point Of this most elaborate nonsense. THE DOVE Well, you will. We'll make a rule That anyone who disbelieves it Shall be strictly prosecuted -- With the utmost rigour Of the majesty of law. THE LAMB And if any fool believes it -- THE DOVE He shall come to live with Us. What a privilege! THE VULTURE Provided He observe propriety, Never laugh, never dance, Never do the dreadful thing! THE DOVE Precisely so! THE VULTURE It's settled then, Charmingly unanimously Carried by a show of wings. THE LAMB I protest. THE VULTURE You did not vote. THE LAMB If I had a pair of wings -- THE DOVE You might fly; and so might pigs! THE VULTURE Pray, sir, do not mention pigs! Gru -- utch! Scheme approved, and entered in The Minutes. I declare the board Quite indefinitely adjourned. THE LAMB I oppose; I wish to enter A minority report. THE VULTURE You are out of order, sir. THE LAMB I shall get my own back later In the Theatres of London Where a show of legs decides. THE DOVE By the way -- THE VULTURE These sleeping women Are no good to us, of course? THE DOVE No indeed! I want a creature Very different to that, THE VULTURE Well, you'll have a job to find one. THE DOVE Would you lend me your red star? THE VULTURE With the greatest pleasure, pigeon! THE DOVE I'll be off, then. THE LAMB So will I. THE VULTURE I shall know where I can find you. THE LAMB Would you had a moment's patience! I had a much better scheme -- One involving pigeon-pie! THE VULTURE Butch! be off with you. I'll hop Up again to the tree-top. Yaugh Waugh! That's me! Always at the top of the tree!®MD167¯®RM65¯®MDNM¯®IP10,0¯(They depart separately, yet together. The old Philosopher wakes).®IP¯ HERACLEITUS Ah! but some evil things have brooded here Over the sleepers. May it be indeed The truth that some strange fate threatens the world? That Art and Love and Beauty, to renew Their glory, must be bathed in their own blood? But who shall understand the Soul of Pan? Involved in All and still apart from All! For steeped therein as I am all my life, I know but exquisite beatitude, Knowing the whole, Then who shall know or care What may befall the part? One must remain; Many must change. Then all is well. The strife Is but the ferment of the forward still Immune from grief, intolerant of ill, Fronting the double foe -- of pain and joy -- With equal eye -- in the meantime -- Dear boy, Wake! Let us revel it the while we may, Love dawning ever with the dawning day. Wake, brothers, sisters! It is time to stir. The owl, the night-hawk, sad and sinister, Have fled, The first flush animates the hills, Reddens the rushes, flashes on the rills. Come while the breeze blows and the air is cool Down through the forest to the Fairies' pool. (All rise and follow the sage, singing:) THE COMPANY Praise Eros wittily! Praise Eros well! Tripping it prettily Down through the dell! Joyous and eager Our tresses adorning, Away to beleaguer The city of morning! Away to the leap to The soft-smiling pool Whose kisses shall creep to Us virginal cool! Race and bescatter The dew in the grass; The nymph and her satyr! The lad and his lass! O blest is the laughter Of Arcady's groves That chases us after To delicate loves, The frolics, the fancies, The fires, the desires, The dives and the dances, The lutes and the lyres! Follow, o follow, Sweet seed of the sun! Through the wood, through the hollow, The race is begun That shall fill the day up With the roses of pleasure, The rod -- and the cup -- And the crown of our treasure! Sweet are our voices; Our bodies are bare; Their spirit rejoices Afloat in the air, Coiling and curling In maze of aeons Its vision unfurling A pageant of paeans! Blessed be Love in his Palace of praise Whom we follow above in his Wonderful ways! Whom we follow above To the stars and the snows, Immaculate Love! -- We adore thee, Eros! Praise Eros wittily! Praise Eros well! Tripping it prettily


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