Lilith

"A song that had no sound into his soul; I lay a heartless thing against his heart, Giving him nothing where he
gave his whole Being to clothe me human, every part: That I at last into his sense might dart, Thus first into
his living mind I stole.
"Ah, who was ever conquering Love but I! Who else did ever throne in heart of man! To visible being, with a
gladsome cry Waking, life's tremor through me throbbing ran!"
A strange, repulsive feline wail arose somewhere in the room. I started up on my elbow and stared about me,
but could see nothing.
Mr. Raven turned several leaves, and went on:−−
"Sudden I woke, nor knew the ghastly fear That held me−−not like serpent coiled about, But like a vapour
moist, corrupt, and drear, Filling heart, soul, and breast and brain throughout; My being lay motionless in
sickening doubt, Nor dared to ask how came the horror here.
"My past entire I knew, but not my now; I understood nor what I was, nor where; I knew what I had been:
still on my brow I felt the touch of what no more was there! I was a fainting, dead, yet live Despair; A life
that flouted life with mop and mow!
"That I was a queen I knew right well, And sometimes wore a splendour on my head Whose flashing even
dead darkness could not quell−− The like on neck and arms and girdle−stead; And men declared a light my
closed eyes shed That killed the diamond in its silver cell."
Again I heard the ugly cry of feline pain. Again I looked, but saw neither shape nor motion. Mr. Raven
seemed to listen a moment, but again turned several pages, and resumed:−−
"Hideously wet, my hair of golden hue Fouled my fair hands: to have it swiftly shorn I had given my rubies,
all for me dug new−− No eyes had seen, and such no waist had worn! For a draught of water from a drinking
horn, For one blue breath, I had given my sapphires blue!
"Nay, I had given my opals for a smock, A peasant−maiden's garment, coarse and clean: My shroud was
rotting! Once I heard a cock Lustily crow upon the hillock green Over my coffin. Dulled by space between,
Came back an answer like a ghostly mock."
Once more arose the bestial wail.
Lilith
"I thought some foul thing was in the room!" said the librarian, casting a glance around him; but instantly he
turned a leaf or two, and again read:−−
"For I had bathed in milk and honey−dew, In rain from roses shook, that ne'er touched earth, And ointed me
with nard of amber hue; Never had spot me spotted from my birth, Or mole, or scar of hurt, or fret of dearth;
Never one hair superfluous on me grew.
"Fleeing cold whiteness, I would sit alone−− Not in the sun−−I feared his bronzing light, But in his radiance
back around me thrown By fulgent mirrors tempering his might; Thus bathing in a moon−bath not too bright,
My skin I tinted slow to ivory tone.
"But now, all round was dark, dark all within! My eyes not even gave out a phantom−flash; My fingers sank
in pulp through pulpy skin; My body lay death−weltered in a mash Of slimy horrors−−−−"
Lilith 93