UNCROWNED

I am not other than men are, you say?
But faulty and failing? And your love can lend
No glory of illusion to o'erlay
The lack, and make me seem one in whom blend
Nobilities wherein your heart may lose
All that it feels of flaw in me, or rues?

Can it so be? Did ever woman love
Whose faith wreathed not about the brow she chose
Aureolas illumining him above
All that another thinks he is, or knows?
I ask it bravely, for the way is long,
And, haloless, should I not lead you wrong?

WRITTEN IN HELL

(_By Sir Giles, whom the Witch of Urm leads to Judas Iscariot_)

Against a castle moated gloomily by a bitter drain of blood,
From whose fetid wave contumely
Of all truth was reeking fumily
And infectiously, I stood;
Waiting for her sign--
A shriek repeated nine.

I shrank at every aspish quivering fear set crawling in my breast.
But betimes I felt a shivering
Shriek cut ear and brain with slivering
Stings of terror, sin, unrest--
Christ! it raised the dead
Out of the moat's black bed.

Nine times--and then across the thickening reek a rusty draw was
dropped;
Thro portcullis sped a quickening
Shadow past to where with sickening
Feet, befixed by awe I stopped--
There she laughed a laugh
No devil's soul could quaff.

I swear its clamor tore the stuttering leaves from shrub and shrunken
tree;
Swear no limbo e'er heard muttering
Like that spawn of echoes sputtering
Midnight with their drunken glee--
Yet, ere half were done,
I could not hear a one.

She put her finger burning eerily to my lips--I heard them lock.
Led me then a marsh-way, cheerily--
Tho the quick ooze spurted drearily
Thro root-rotten curd and rock.
Things like water-ghouls
Slid slimily in pools.

She stepped just once upon a hideous burrow, dank and haired with grass;
Fixed upon me eyes perfidious
As a fiend's are, yet insidious--
Questioned if I dared to pass.
"I will search all Hell
To find him," from me fell.

And so was drawn thro dark cadaverous with the sound of gabbling dead.
Where we heard them hoot palaverous
Drivel learned beneath unsavorous
Moulds, and saw a glutton's head
Grin to a hissing bat,
That scraped him as he spat.

Witch she was, I knew, turned shepherdess to a soul blind as a sheep's.
But I dogged her on o'er jeopardous