5 THE BLACK MASS 1 Lord! on love's alter lies the sacrament. O willing victim, eager to be slain, Lusting to feel the knife, the life-veil rent, Assumption energized by death! O fain To feel the murderous ardour of the priest Clutch at his throat, theurgic frenzy fly About the initiates of the Paschal feast And know it in the dim dead I Loosed the pang - even thus you know it is, Even thus when I invoke your harsh caress, Put up my mouth to your immortal kiss, Confess you for my lady and murderess - In mine own life-blood I exult to float Even as your white fangs fasten in my throat.
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