Equinox I (04).pdf

78
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STARRED is the blackness of the sky;
Wide is the sweep of the cold plain
Where good Sir Palamede doth lie,
Keen on the Beast-slot once again.
All day he rode; all night he lay
With eyes wide open to the stars,
Seeking in many a secret way
The key to unlock his prison bars.
Beneath him, hark! the marvel sounds!
The Beast that questeth horribly.
As if a thirty couple hounds
Are in his belly questeth he.
Beneath him? Heareth he aright?
He leaps to'sfeet—a wonder shews:
Steep dips a stairway from the light
To what obscurity God knows.
Still never a tremor shakes his soul
(God praise thee, knight of adamant!);
He plungers to that gruesome goal
Firm as an old bull-elephant!