The Pursuer

Climbing from out what nadir-fountained sea, From nether incarnations none may sound— Sealed with the night of suns, forever bound With frozen systems—comest thou to me, Despair, whose darker name in memory I know not, bringing from the dead profound, With cerernents and sepulchral purples wound, The fouIness of thine immortality? O shape of loathIier horrors, here untold, Have I not climbed secure from their abyss, Those lower spheres, those limbos dire and old ? Thou tearest me beyond the hells of this, Down chasms dreadful for the light of tears Where worm-like terror crawls in the undead years !