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the Equinox - The Hermetic Library

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XXVI<br />

SIR PALAMEDE <strong>the</strong> Saracen<br />

Hath gotten him a swift canoe,<br />

Paddled by stalwart South Sea men.<br />

<strong>The</strong>y cleave <strong>the</strong> oily breasts of blue,<br />

Straining toward <strong>the</strong> westering disk<br />

Of <strong>the</strong> tall sun; <strong>the</strong>y battle through<br />

Those weary days; <strong>the</strong> wind is brisk;<br />

<strong>The</strong> stars are clear; <strong>the</strong> moon is high.<br />

Now, even as a white basilisk<br />

That slayeth all men with his eye,<br />

Stands up before <strong>the</strong>m tapering<br />

<strong>The</strong> cone of speechless sanctity.<br />

Up, up its slopes <strong>the</strong> pilgrims swing,<br />

Chanting <strong>the</strong>ir pagan gramarye<br />

Unto <strong>the</strong> dread volcano-king.<br />

“Now, <strong>the</strong>n, by Goddes reed!” quod he,<br />

“Behold <strong>the</strong> secret of my quest<br />

In this far-famed stability!<br />

69

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