Aleister Crowley - White Stains

To thy desire, till love is one with us.

God! I shall faint with pain, I hide my face

For shame. I am disturbed, I cannot rise,

I breathe hard with thy breath; thy quick embrace

Crushes; thy teeth are agony - pain dies

In deadly passion. Ah! you come - you kill me!

Christ! God! Bite! Bite! Ah Bite! Love's fountains fill me.

Table of Contents

Sonnet to the Virgin Mary

Mother of God! who knowest the dire pangs

Of childbirth, and has suffered, and dost know

How utter sweet the full fruit of thy woe,

And how His heel hath crushed the serpent's fangs,

Be with me in the birth of this my book,

These songs of mine, poor children, like to die;

Yet, if they may not perish utterly,

It is to thee for sustenance I look.

Mother of God! be with me in success,

Abide with me if peradventure fail

These faint songs, murmurs of a summer gale

That my heart clothes within a mortal dress;

And with thy sympathy, their bliss or bale

Shall be too light to shake my happiness.

Table of Contents

Man Hero

Maid Heroine

Her Mother

Count B

He. Draw nigh, sweet maiden, violets blush at birth,

Pale lilies tinge with crimson, as the snow

At dawn's approach, the pansy's darksome dye

Deepens when tender winds blow over it

And give its beauties to the summer's gaze:

So blush at being mine, yet gently come

And place a dainty hand within my hold

Too delicate to crush it into warmth,

Save that blood mantling to thy cheek shall flow

Back to the fingers, though I press them not.

And so I will not hesitate to put

A ring upon thy hand, sweet mystery

Of Love's device, to shadow in our hearts

Th' Eternity of an immortal self

That is, and shall be while the stars endure,

Or while a God of Love is pitiful

Of all men's sorrows, and most happy in

Their joys-

She. Ah! joys are fleeting!-

He. But our love

Is anchored in the portals of the dawn

Where heaven begins.

She. And heaven begins with us

This day. Behold the flowers, whose kindly gaze

Of modest love is on us as we stand,

And clasp fond hands before high Heaven to swear

Truth an eternal bond, no parchment scroll

Of perishable matter ill devised

And scored upon with perishable ink,

But in our pulses' quick delight to live

From day to day renewed, as if a fount

Of God's mysterious stream, that here a man

May wet his ankle, and again immerse

Unto his knees, and yet again assay

To cross its silver depth and find himself

Swimming in crystal coldness on a sea

Broad as God's mercy and as deep as Love.

He. And whose strong tide shall bear our spirit out

Into the ocean of all happiness

Whose bounds are Heaven.

She. See! the scythe of Time

Sweeps on to cut the new-born flowers in twain

That symbolizes the reluctant hour

In which we met - and now the flower is dead

And we must part.

He. Fond hearts, chaste souls, as one

Whose unity is sacred, still shall dwell

Together - Not the cold embrace

Of 'We shall meet again', but let us say

The ritual of a lover, being this

'God be with you!'

She. O heart too dear to me,

Too much beloved for lover's tongue to tell,

God be with you! Farewell, sweet heart!

He. Farewell.

(EXEUNT).

DESUNT CETERA.

Table of Contents

On land wrought of starlight rain lingers

In delicate spirals and spines,

And sunlight's immaculate fingers

Creep through the desire of the pines;

The promise is flashed into being,

Tremendous and florid and proud,

To be seen by the eyes of the seeing,

A bow in the cloud.

O flamed through the sky as a harlot

In splendour transcendent and bold,

With purple and crimson and scarlet

And azure and olive and gold!

O melting to magic and mystery,

As clouds fly to heaven again,

And holy Hyperion's history

Is flashed into rain!

O Godhead of glory through anguish!

O Christ shone through Magdalen's tears!

Thy sons on the universe languish

In iron bands strong as the spheres;

With virtue Thy likeness we cover,

With priestcraft we mock at Thy power,

And the meanest on earth is a lover,

As vile as a flower.

Come down through the visionless aether,

And watch for the sprout of the grain

Hid dark in the wonder beneath her,

A marvel of passion and pain;

Smite power from on high into mortals,

Draw spirit to spirit and nigher,

That winds burst the wonderful portals

And tongues as of fire.

O Life of the stars in their glory,

O Light of the passionate spring,

How sweet and supreme is thy story,

Most Wonderful, Counsellor, King!

O crucified, slain, re-arisen!

Burst open the fetters that bind,

Change from us the garb of our prison

And lighten the mind.

O Spring, tell the bountiful Giver

Thy smiles on the world are in vain;

Come down, O Lord God, and deliver

Our souls from the wheel and the chain,

That Love may lie fragrant and shaded,

And Joy may spread wings unto flight,

And Peace stand above, unupbraided,

As splendid as night.

No longer the sun shall cast shadow,

No longer the flower shall lack rain,

The word shall be fair as a meadow,

And Love know no tincture of pain;

The Glory of God shall be on us,

And over the kingdon unpriced

The Spirit of Love is upon us,

A crucified Christ!

O rapture! O glory! O gladness!

When Satan is fled from the land,

When Christ cleanses sin, and from madness

Deletes its indelible brand;

For life shall spring where they have smitten,

And Love rise from under the rod,

Till all men behold what is written,

The kingdom of God!

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