Sonnets of the Wingless Hours By Eugene Lee-Hamilton |
 | I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. | II.—THE BINDING OF THE LOST. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
35
II.—THE BINDING OF THE LOST.
In monstrous caverns, lit but by the glare
From pools of molten stone, the lost are pent
In silent herds,—dim, shadowy, vaguely blent,
Yet each alone with his own black despair;
From pools of molten stone, the lost are pent
In silent herds,—dim, shadowy, vaguely blent,
Yet each alone with his own black despair;
While, through the thickness of the lurid air,
The flying fiends, from some far unseen vent,
Bring on their bat-wing'd backs, in swift descent,
The souls who swell the waiting myriads there.
The flying fiends, from some far unseen vent,
Bring on their bat-wing'd backs, in swift descent,
The souls who swell the waiting myriads there.
And then begins the binding of the lost
With snaky thongs, before they be transferred
To realms of utter flame or utter frost;
With snaky thongs, before they be transferred
To realms of utter flame or utter frost;
And, like a sudden ocean boom, is heard,
Uprising from the dim and countless host,
Pain's first vague roar, Hell's first wild useless word.
Uprising from the dim and countless host,
Pain's first vague roar, Hell's first wild useless word.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |