I had won her love. And, behold! the thunder
Trumpeted tempest: I heard the seas
Lunge at the walls like a roaring wonder,
And the rain-wind sing in the trees.—
Lyanna my bride.—And the heavens asunder
Rushed—chasms of glaring storm, where poured
The thunder’s cataracts, rolling under—
And showed me, horde on horde,
The shouting spirits of storm.—The portal
Of sleep was riven; she rose, and saw:
And I said to her soul, “Of the utterly mortal
Mine the eternal lot and law.”—
“I love thee!” she answered.—And I, “Immortal
Am I through thy love!” ... And so we fled....
Behold! when they came in the morn, astartle,
Men whispered—“Lyanna is dead!”
THE SPIRITS OF LIGHT AND DARKNESS
Voices of Darkness
Ere the birth of Death and of Time,
And of Hell, with its tears and its torments:
Ere the waves of heat and of rime,
And the winds to the heavens were as garments:
Cloud-like in the womb of Space,
Mist-like from her monster womb,
We sprang, a myriad race
Of thunder and tempest and gloom.
Voices of Light
As from the evil good
Springs, and desire:
As the white lily’s hood
Buds from the mire:
So from this midnight brood
Sprang we with fire.
Voices of Darkness
We had lain for long ages asleep
In her bosom, a bulk of torpor,
When down through the vasts of the deep
Clove a sound, like the notes of a harper:
Clove a sound, and the horrors grew
Tumultuous with turbulent night,
With whirlwinds of blackness that blew,
And storm that was godly in might.
And the walls of our dungeon were shattered
Like the crust of a fire-wrecked world:
As torrents of clouds that are scattered,
From the womb of the deep we were hurled.