The King-Ghost

From "Gargoyles" Epilogue.
The King-Ghost
"Collected Works" iii p. 107

The King-Ghost is abroad. His spectre legions
        Sweep from their icy lakes and bleak ravines
Unto these weary and untrodden regions
        Where man lies penned among his Might-have-beens.
            Keep us in safety, Lord,
            What time the King-Ghost is abroad!

The King-Ghost from his grey malefic slumbers
            Awakes the malice of his bloodless brain.
He marshals a the innumerable numbers
        Of shrieking shapes on the sepulchral plain.
            Keep us, for Jesus's sake,
            What time the King-ghost is awake!

The King-Ghost wears a crown of hopes forgotten!
        Dead loves are woven in his ghastly robe;
Bewildered wills and faiths grown old an rotten
        And deeds undared his sceptre, sword, and globe.
            Keep us, O Mary maid,
            What time the King-Ghost goes arrayed!

The hell-Wind whistles through his plumeless pinions; _b
        Clanks all that melancholy host of bones;
Fate's principalities and Death's dominions
        Echo the drear discord, the tuneless tones.
            Keep us, dear God, from ill,
            What time the Hell-Wind whistles shrill.

The King-Ghost hath no music but their rattling;
        No scent but death's grown faint and fugitive;
No light but this their leprous pallor battling
        Weakly with night. Lord, shall these dry bones live?
            O keep us in the hour
            Wherein the King-Ghost hath his power!

The King-Ghost girds me with his gibbering creatures,
        My dreams of old that never saw the sun.
He shows me in a mocking glass, their features.
        The twin fiends, "Might-have-been" and "Should have done."
            Keep us, by Jesu's ruth. _a
            What time the King-Ghost grins the truth!

The King-Ghost boasts eternal usurpature;
        For in this pool of tears his fingers fret
I had imagined by enduring nature,
        The twin gods "Thus-will-I! and "May-be-yet."
            God, keep us most from ill,
            What time the Kingt-Ghost grips the will!

Silver and rose and gold what flames resurges?
        What living light pours forth in emerald waves?
What inmost Music drowns the clamorous dirges? _b
        - Shrieking they fly, the King-Ghost and his slaves.
            Lord, let Thy Ghost indwell,
            And keep us from the power of Hell!

Amen.

[OP]

Kneel down, dear maiden o'mine, and let your eyes
get knowledge with a soft and glad surprise!
Who would have thought you would have had it in you?
Say nothing! On the contrary, continue! c

     a marshals (modern spelling: marshals): "to order," "to align," "to array."
     b plumeless pinions: wings without feathers.
     a ruth: "compassion," "sorrow."
     b clamorous dirges: shrieking songs of woe.
     c This final verse (also from Collected Works p. 108) has been interpreted in sensuous and licentious terms, it does, of course, present a most holy description of true Christian contemplation.

[OP]