Fall crushed and leaden, as your senses deaden
In poisonous Python fumes!
Ye gobemouche creatures of batrachian features, who "go a-wooing" such a fate as this,
Have ye no vision of that doom's decision? Have ye no ear for rattle or for hiss?
Salammbô's craving, morbid and enslaving, was sanity compared with your mad love,
As well the swallow the fierce shrike might follow,
Or hawk be chased by dove!
Tantalus' gold is all such Lamias hold; 'tis Devil's dice such Mammon vassals throw;
A sordid fever fires each fool-believer in the gross glitter, the unholy glow.
Vile is your Dagon! Circe's venomed flagon embruted less than doth the Lamia's wine,