IAN PAISLEY A TRUE IRISHMAN

news, Ian Paisley, #indyref, SCOTLAND, SCOTTISH INDEPENDENCE, SNP, uk politics, IrishMan

Ian Paisley was known for his rhetoric. Here are some of his notable quotes.

"I would never repudiate the fact that I am an Irishman" - June 1991.

"Catholic homes caught fire because they were loaded with petrol bombs; Catholic churches were attacked and burned because they were arsenals and priests handed out sub-machine guns to parishioners" - at a loyalist rally in 1968 following attacks on Catholic homes. -

"They breed like rabbits and multiply like vermin" - talking about Catholics at a loyalist rally in 1969.

"Catholic homes caught fire because they were loaded with petrol bombs; Catholic churches were attacked and burned because they were arsenals and priests handed out sub-machine guns to parishioners" - at a loyalist rally in 1968 following attacks on Catholic homes.

"Save Ulster from sodomy!" - his slogan in a 1970s and 80s campaign against legalising homosexuality.

"Never, never, never, never ... " - outside Belfast City Hall as he addressed tens of thousands of loyalists protesting against the signing of the November 1985 Anglo-Irish Agreement.

"I am not going to sit down with bloodthirsty monsters who have been killing and terrifying my people" - opposing demands to sit down and talk with Sinn Féin."The scarlet woman of Rome" - his description of Pope John Paul II.Speaking in the House of Commons after the shooting dead of two British soldiers outside Massereene Barracks in March 2009.
"I say to the Dublin government, Mr Faulkner says it's "hands across the border to Dublin". I say, if they don't behave themselves in the South, it will be shots across the border!"
In responce to Northern Ireland Prime Minister Brian Faulkner's sigining of the Sunningdale Agreement with the Republic of Ireland in 1974
"People don't expect to die tomorrow, but they do take out insurance, don't they?"
Ian Paisley
"Don't come crying to me if your homes are attacked. You will reap what you sow".
After been forcibly carried out from the Assembly building by police(1986)
"We're on the verge of civil war in Northern Ireland. Why? Because if you take away the forums of democracy you don't have anything left."
After been forcibly carried out from the Assembly building by police(1986)
"I have read in the Book of Revelation the power of the word of testimony, but I never realised what power was in a martyr's testimony. If I had brought a ton of explosives and let them off in that Assembly it could not have had a greater effect. That vast Assembly erupted, and the books started to fly and the punches started to be thrown, and the kicking started, but I held my ground and maintained my testimony. THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN EUROPE TODAY AND EUROPE IN REFORMATION TIMES.

 This afternoon I read again the story of Luther, at the Diet of Worms. Who presided over the Diet of Worms? The Emperor Charles, Head of the Holy Roman Empire. Who was he? He was a Habsburg. It is interesting to note that one of the men who attacked me is the last of the Habsburgs-Otto Habsburg, the Pretender to the Crown of Austria and Hungary. I said to myself, 'The Habsburgs are still lusting for Protestant blood. They are still the same as they were in the days of Luther.' The members of the Roman Catholic Party of Mr. Le Pen of which John Taylor is a member were round me battering away at me as hard as they could"
None Dare Call Him Antichrist Sermon, Martyrs' Memorial Free Presbyterian Church, October 16, 1988.

"I was born in the island of Ireland. I have Irish traits in me - we don't all have the traits of what came from Scotland, there is the celtic factor... and I am an Irishman because you cannot be an Ulsterman without being an Irishman"
"Never confuse sitting on your side with being on your side."

"I will never sit down with Gerry Adams ... he'd sit with anyone. He'd sit down with the devil. In fact, Adams does sit down with the devil" - February 1997.

"We are not going into government with Sinn Féin" - after the confirmation of IRA's decommissioning of its arms.

"We do not know how many guns, the amount of ammunition and explosives were decommissioned, nor were we told how the decommissioning was carried out. There were no photographs, no detailed inventory, and no detail on the destruction of these arms. To describe today's statement as transparent would be the falsehood of the century" - on IRA decommissioning of weapons, September 2005.

"If anybody had told me a few years ago that I would be doing this, I would have been unbelieving" - inside Parliament Buildings, Stormont, after agreeing to enter a power-sharing government with former IRA leader Martin McGuinness as his Deputy First Minister.

"People have come out of a dark tunnel and they can see there is a path out there for us. I think it has put a lot of faith and hope into people" - on the eve of being sworn in as First Minister of the power-sharing government.

"I believe that Northern Ireland has come to a time of peace, a time when hate will no longer rule. How good it will be to be part of a wonderful healing in our province" - his inaugural speech as First Minister.

"I better shake hands with this man and give you a firm grip" - as he prepared to shake hands with Bertie Ahern in Dublin last April.

"Today, we can confidently state that we are making progress to ensure that our two countries can develop and grow side by side in a spirit of generous cooperation. Old barriers and threats have been, and are being, removed daily" - after the handshake.

"I might as well make hay while the sun shines" - 2007, saying he intended to defend his North Antrim seat at the next general election and remain as First Minister for the full term.

Extract of speech delivered at Stormont upon taking his seat as Northern Ireland first Minister.

"Winning support for all the institutions of policing has been a critical test that today has been met in pledged word and deed. Recognising the significance of that change from a community that for decades demonstrated hostility for policing, has been critical in Ulster turning the corner.

"I have sensed a great sigh of relief amongst all our people who want the hostility to be replaced with neighbourliness.

"The great king Solomon said:

'To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

'A time to be born and a time to die.

'A time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted.

'A time to kill and a time to heal.

'A time to break down and a time to build up.

'A time to get and a time to lose.

'A time to keep and a time to cast away.

'A time to love and a time to hate.

'A time of war and a time of peace.'

"I believe that Northern Ireland has come to a time of peace, a time when hate will no longer rule.

"How good it will be to be part of a wonderful healing in our province.

"Today we have begun to plant and we await the harvest."

"I don't like the President of the Irish Republic because she is dishonest" - his description of the former President Mary McAleese.

"Mr Adams would have to repent from his evil ways. I am here tonight by the grace of God, a sinner saved by grace" - New York, 1994, when asked if he would shake Sinn Féin leader Gerry Adams's hand.

"Talk about dancing at Christmas on the graves of Ulster dead, and to be given the facility so to dance by the British Prime Minister ... Here we saw the godfathers of those who planned the bombing of Downing Street, standing outside there and piously pretending they were engaged in a search for peace" - reacting to the Downing Street meeting of Sinn Féin leader Gerry Adams and British Prime Minister Tony Blair in December 1997.

"I denounce you, Antichrist! I refuse you as Christ's enemy and Antichrist with all your false doctrine" - addressing Pope John Paul II on a visit to the European Parliament October 1988.

"This Romish man of sin is now in hell! - on the death of Pope John XXIII.

"The IRA's bishop from Crossmaglen" - describing the then head of the Catholic Church in Ireland, Tomás Ó Fiaich.

"Line dancing is as sinful as any other type of dancing, with its sexual gestures and touching. It is an incitement to lust."

"No surrender. We will never bend the knee" - a regular cry aimed at those he believed were ready to "betray" Ulster.

"Protect us from the shackles of priestcraft" - late 1970s in an attack on the Catholic Church.

"The breath of Satan is upon us" - his remark when he entered a Belfast press conference in a smoke-filled, whisky-sodden hall in the mid-1970s.

"Let me smell your breath first, son" - Paisley's regular request to reporters, whom he suspected of drinking, before he would allow them to interview him.

"The devil's buttermilk" - his description of alcoholic drinks, chiefly Guinness.

"This is the spark which kindles a fire there could be no putting out" - his criticism of a diversion ordered by the police of a "provocative" Orange Order march.

"Because it would be hard for you to poison them" - when asked why he had chosen boiled eggs for breakfast during a top-level meeting at the Irish Embassy in London.

"No, I wouldn't" - his response to John Hume, an SDLP politician who said that if the word "no" were removed from the English language, Paisley would be speechless.

"I would never repudiate the fact that I am an Irishman" - June 1991.

IRISHMAN FRAMED FOR BRITISH FALSE FLAG OMAGH BOMBING

On the 10th of April 2014, arising out of a British paramilitary police investigation into the Omagh bombing, Seamus Daly was charged with the murder of 29 people in Omagh in 1998, two charges linked to the explosion and two counts linked to an attempted explosion in Lisburn in April 1998. He appeared in court on 11th April and was remanded in custody and is due to face the courts again next month.This process will at a minimum mask several years of political internment by the non jury courts in British Occupied Ireland and scapegoate him for a British False Flag operation, similar to event in the above video to discredit Irish republicanism, justify even more oppression against the plain people of Ireland and give a lease of life, to a fake peace process in Ireland.

Seamus Daly or Séamus Ó Dálaigh an Irish republican from Kilmurray,Castleblayney, County Monaghan was charged with terrorism offences in Dublin's Special Criminal Court in 2004, being a member of the Real Irish Republican Army IRA and was sentenced to three and half years in prison. He is one of four men found by a civil court to be liable for the 1998 Omagh bombing in a case taken by relatives of the victims.all of this was on concocted false evidence, making him and comrades scapegoats for yet another British false flag operation, that has murdered numerous ordinary people from both communities in Ireland, to justify their neo colonial presence.

The British and Irish governments are facing fresh demands for a new inquiry into their police and intelligence agencies including the involvement of the FBI in the withholding vital information on the Omagh bombing. One of the most disturbing pieces of information to emerge refers to an e-mail sent between David Rupert and his MI5/FBI handlers which warned of a bomb attack in Omagh.

No one will welcome an inquiry more than the family of Michael McKevitt. They believe that such an inquiry would exonerate him and will expose what many people already believe that he was framed from the outset. Ironically when one looks at the Dublin trial and later the civil case the evidence used against him was far from convincing. During the 2003 trial the only evidence was given by David Rupert a paid informer working for MI5 and the FBI whose activities are now being questioned by the Omagh families. Subsequently the transcripts from the Dublin trial were used as the sole evidence in the Omagh civil case. In the summing up of the civil case Mr Justice Morgan conceded that “the MI5/FBI informant David Rupert had lied to Dublin’s Special Criminal Court and was financially motivated”. This comment from Mr Justice Morgan is clearly in conflict with how he allowed Rupert’s evidence from the Dublin trial to be used in the civil case.

The April 1998 e-mail is not something new as it was highlighted in 2003 during McKevitt’s trial. The defence team questioned that particular e-mail by asking what was Rupert’s knowledge and involvement in the bomb attack on the town. Indeed there are on-going suggestions that Rupert was observed in Omagh town days before the bomb attack, a point which appears to be forgotten somewhere along the way. It should also be noted that after the attack Rupert was whisked off out of the country by his MI5 handlers fearing arrest, this detail is also contained in the e-mails and although it has always been of considerable significance it is not mentioned in the ‘new report’. Too many questions on Rupert’s activity in Ireland throughout that period remain unanswered and although many questions were raised on his activities during the McKevitt trial the conviction appears to have been the main objective.

The ‘new report’ makes one interesting observation on Rupert on his activities in Ireland. The families say that they have documented evidence to show that MI5 urged him to offer intelligence to the Continuity IRA about British army and police bases in Northern Ireland, which he did. Posing as American tourists awe-struck by the security installations, Rupert and his wife would stop at border crossing points such as Aughnacloy and take pictures and videos of themselves at the border crossings. According to the Omagh Self Help and Support group new intelligence files indicate that Rupert was also aiding the IRA by sending materials from the US with the full knowledge of his FBI handlers. The fact that Rupert was involved in such activities, one can only assume that it was in his interest to accuse someone else and deflect from his own involvement in terrorism and his knowledge of the Omagh attack.

During the Omagh civil case Rupert refused to give evidence by video link from the US fearing extensive cross-examination by McKevitt's legal team. It was felt at the time that he was acting on advice from the FBI and this development suggested that they were fearful of something more sinister emerging during any cross-examination. Another unanswered but interesting question is that of Michael Gallagher’s meeting with the FBI and David Rupert in the US, prior to McKevitt's arrest in 2001. If all questions are to be answered then Mr Gallagher should also come clean on that and other clandestine meetings which he attended.

Although the families have indicated that they will go to Court if no inquiry is forthcoming it is doubtful if the authorities (British and Irish) will give consent for such an inquiry, to do so would open up issues which may create more embarrassment for the authorities and may also expose a wider FBI involvement in the case. Outlandish as it may appear, the US involvement surrounding the events in the Omagh attack should not be underestimated and it would certainly need further examination.

A very interesting development emerged during the Omagh inquest when Michael Mansfield QC [representing the victim’s families] asked RUC Assistant Chief Constable Eric Anderson if the British state possessed any satellite information which facilitated the monitoring of the Vauxhall Cavalier prior to the bombing. Anderson confirmed the car contained a tracking device which enabled a US satellite to pinpoint the car’s movements and exact location on the day of the bombing. US intelligence also conveyed this surveillance data to MI5, yet MI5 decided not to relay the information to RUC officers on the ground.

The families are well aware that much of the undisclosed material surrounding the bomb attack will point the finger straight towards the security services, their knowledge of events prior to the attack and their lack of cooperation with the police (RUC) in the area. There are also separate reports of the involvement of informers who it is believed alerted their handlers prior to the attack and this information was also concealed from the RUC in the area.

Major mistakes were also made since the bombing by some members of the families who allowed their judgment to be clouded after the British government agreed to finance the civil case for them. They now realise that their cooperation with the British security services (MI5) instead of pursuing their own independent case has cost them dearly in the long term. In total, to date all they have achieved was a witch hunt, which concluded with a less than convincing civil case and on their own admission they now realise that the truth did not emerge. It appears that vengeance overtook the search for truth and now 15 years later they are further back than they were in the immediate aftermath of the attack.

One glaring weakness in the report reveals that it relies heavily on hundreds of e-mails exchanged between David Rupert – who was the state prosecution witness in the McKevitt trial and his MI5/FBI handlers. Although one particular e-mail dated April 1998 sent by Rupert to his handlers revealed that Omagh town was a potential bomb target. However, the authenticity of the e-mails was questioned during the trial in 2003, and it led to their withdrawal by the prosecution after it emerged that they contained multiple contradictory and unreliable details. According to legal sources, had the e-mails been submitted as evidence the trial would have collapsed and Michael McKevitt would have walked free.

Other information in the report revealed how police in the Omagh area received three pieces of evidence, one from an anonymous tip-off and two separate informants, this could also have assisted in preventing the bombing if they had been brought together in time. According to the report there are serious allegations made against MI5 and FBI for withholding information from the police, but there are also allegations against the police on both sides of the border for withholding information from each other. The wide sweeping allegations throughout the report leaves one to draw only one conclusion, that the responsibility for the mess-ups rests clearly between both the Irish and British authorities. Whether it was deliberate or not is another story, some will say that it was, others will say that it was just a mess-up.

Disturbing omissions from the civil case included the lack of cooperation from state witnesses including the police (RUC) who refused to participate or cooperate in the case. The senior police officer (RUC) who led the Omagh investigation was accused of stealing police files relating to the bomb investigation, bizarrely this wasn’t queried by the judge in the civil case. The British Security Services personnel including MI5 operatives refused to cooperate and withheld relevant information on the bombing.

Some of the more accurate aspects of the reports say:




* a senior member of the Gardai who held the rank of Assistant Commissioner failed to pass vital intelligence to his counterparts in the North, information that dissident republicans were trying to obtain a vehicle for a bomb attack.

* that there is evidence to back claims that the car carrying the bomb to Omagh had a tracking device attached and was monitored with the help of the FBI; although this has been denied by the FBI the report suggests that they have proof which widens the FBI’s involvement the case.

* The e-mail sent between Rupert to his MI5/FBI handlers in April 1998 revealed that Omagh was being targeted for a bomb attack. Information from that particular e-mail was in possession of MI5 the FBI and a senior member of the Gardaí, it was never passed to the police in the North, according to the report.

The report points out that there is concrete evidence that, on the day of the attack GCHQ was monitoring a phone number being used by the bombers. This information came into the public domain through two panorama programmes but more significantly a family spokesperson said that the evidence in the report is stronger than the detail contained in the TV programmes.




Throughout all the failures and the lack of cooperation between the police and international security services (MI5/FBI) one must ask, what was the motivation for withholding such vital intelligence reports? Did they want to protect the identity of its agents at all costs? Yes, it certainly appears that they did. Although the families are reluctant to lay any portion of blame with the authorities, the lack of cooperation alone means that they must take some responsibility.




It should be pointed out that following each of those claims, a report by Sir Peter Gibson concluded that the attack on Omagh could not have been prevented. It was one of a number of inquiries which examined issues including the sharing of evidence, the role of police in the south, and a review of what intelligence was picked up by GCHQ. However, the families disagree and suggest that this report was a smokescreen to deflect from state neglect in the case and they are demanding a public inquiry.

Timeline: The search for truth

- 11 April 1998: e-mail sent to MI5/FBI handlers referring to bomb attack on Omagh

- August 1998: Sightings of David Rupert in Omagh days prior to the bombing.

- 15 August 1998: Blast rips through Omagh, killing 29 people after a series of contradictory warnings.

- 16 August 1998: Rupert whisked out of Ireland to London by his MI5 handlers.

- September 1998: Rupert travelled to Cayman Islands to deposit finances.

- October 2000: Panorama broadcasts names of four men connected with the bombing. (Michael McKevitt was not one of those named).

- November 2001: Rupert was approached to give evidence against McKevitt. He was told by the FBI/MI5 what the charges against McKevitt would be – directing of an illegal organisation and membership. This was two months before Rupert came to Ireland to make his statement to the Gardaí against McKevitt and four months before McKevitt was arrested. Rupert’s response was, “tell me what to do, make it worth my while and as long as the benefit overrides risk in my view it will be done to the best of my ability.”

- December 2001: Report by ombudsman criticises police inquiry and says key intelligence was not passed to inquiry team.

- January 9th, 2001: David Rupert made a statement to the Gardaí in Dublin.

- March 2001: Michael McKevitt is arrested

- August 2003: Michael McKevitt convicted of directing terrorism and jailed in charges unrelated to the Omagh attack.

- September 2008: Panorama reports agencies monitored phones of suspected bombers.

- January 2009: Sir Peter Gibson inquiry says the attack could not have been prevented.

- August 2013: Families call for new public inquiry.




I.Green

Savage Native Shore

The Irishman

(tune "Vive la.")
THE savage loves his native shore,
Though rude the soil and chill the air;
Well then may Erin's sons adore
Their isle, which Nature formed so fair!
What flood reflects a shore so sweet,
As Shannon great, or past'ral Bann?
Or who a friend or foe can meet,
So gen'rous as an Irishman?
His hand is rash, his hart is warm
But principle is still his guide-
None more regrets a deed of harm,
And none forgives with nobler pride.
He may be duped, but won't be dared;-
Fitter to practice than to plan,
He dearly earns his poor reward,
And spends it like an Irishman.
If strange or poor, for you he'll pay,
And guide to where you safe may be;
If you're his guest, while e'er you stay,
His cottage holds a jubilee:
His inmost soul he will unlock,
And if he should your secrets scan,
Your confidence he scorns to mock,
For faithful is an Irishman.
By honour bound in woe or weal, What'we she bids he dares to do;
Tempt him with bribes-they won't prevail,
Try him in fire, you'll find him true.
He seeks not safety: let his post
Be where it ought, in danger's van:
And if the field of fame be lost,
'Twill not be by an Irishman.
Erin, loved land! From age to age,
Be thou more great, more fam'd and free!
May peace by thine, or, should'st thoiu wage
Defensive war, cheap victory!
May plenty bloom in every field;
Which gentle breezes softly fan,
And cheerful smiles serenely gild,
The home of every Irishman!

Uploaded by rayc1981 on Apr 28, 2011

This last video is a pictorial of the Parishes of Meelick and Clonfert in South East Galway. Meelick and Clonfert were entered in the 2009 Pride of Place competition by Galway County Council and sucessfully won the overall all Ireland prize for their population. The Pride of Place Competition recognises and celebrates the vital contributions that community partnerships make to society. The focus is on people coming together to shape, change and enjoy all that is good about their local area. It differs from other similar projects in that they specifically recognise the involvement of the local community in all aspects of rural and urban regeneration including, promoting social cohesion, involvement in planning, the promotion of heritage and environmental awareness.

The Pride of Place competition springs from Co-operation Ireland's work with Local Authorities on a cross-border basis through the Local Authority All Island Steering Forum. This forum established a wide range of projects. One of these projects was the Pride of Place Initiative. This initiative expertly guided by Chairman, Tom Dowling grew from strength to strength and has proved to be a run away success in terms of interest and participation from local community groups and their respective Local Authorities. We could safely now say that this is a flagship initiative of the forum.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galway

Lord Muck of Londonderry Rims the Queen of England

“If there's anything better than a good rimming I've never felt it”
~ Oscar Wilde

"Oh I do say, Lord Muck of Londonderry! ​untongue me immediately you vile rat!" Shrieked her majesty. "Yes ma'am, please do not shriek your majesty, it upsets me terrribly." answered Lord Muck " "I do not moan, I am officially your Queen after today's public display Muck and don't you ever forget it, she shrieked again." "Yes your majesty," said Lord Muck as his eyes gleamed with joy.
"Fickle fuckers." replied his queen. “Well Ma'am, I'm trying to help Anglo-Irish relations and I can reccomend it thoroughly" answered Lord Muck. "Untongue me you vile peasant." and with that his queen farted into Lord Muck's filthy mouth!

"Ma,am on this auspicious occasion of your visit to Ireland and our first public display of affection, I am now going to recite for you a poem by a fellow Irishman Oscar Wilde whom you people, imprisoned," replied Lord Muck, it's called:

The Sphinx

In a dim corner of my room
    For longer than my fancy thinks,
    A beautiful and silent Sphinx
Has watched me through the shifting gloom.
Inviolate and immobile
    She does not rise she does not stir
    For silver moons are nought to her
And nought to her the suns that reel.

Red follows grey across the air,
    The waves of moonlight ebb and flow
    But with the Dawn she does not go
And in the night-time she is there.
Dawn follows Dawn and Nights grow old
    And all the while this curious cat
    Lies couching on the Chinese mat
With eyes of satin rimmed with gold.

Upon the mat she lies and leers
    And on the tawny throat of her
    Flutters the soft and fur
Or ripples to her pointed ears.
Come forth my lovely seneschal!
    So somnolent, so statuesque!
    Come forth you exquisite grotesque!
Half woman and half animal!

Come forth my lovely languorous Sphinx!
    And put your head upon my knee!
    And let me stroke your throat and see
Your body spotted like the Lynx!
And let me touch those curving claws
    Of yellow ivory and grasp
    The tail that like a monstrous Asp
Coils round your heavy velvet paws!

A thousand weary centuries
    Are thine while I have hardly seen
    Some twenty summers cast their green
For Autumn's gaudy liveries.
But you can read the Hieroglyphs
    On the great sand-stone obelisks,
    And you have talked with Basilisks,
And you have looked on Hippogriffs.

O tell me, were you standing by
    When Isis to Osiris knelt?
    And did you watch the Egyptian melt
Her union for Anthony
And drink the jewel-drunken wine
    And bend her head in mimic awe
    To see the huge pro-consul draw
The salted tunny from the brine?

And did you mark the Cyprian kiss
    With Adon on his catafalque,
    And did you follow Amanalk
The god of Heliopolis?

And did you talk with Thoth, and did
    You hear the moon-horned Io weep
    And know the painted kings who sleep
Beneath the wedge-shaped Pyramid?

Lift up your large black satin eyes
    Which are like cushions where one sinks,
    Fawn at my feet, fantastic Sphinx,
And sing me all your memories.
Sing to me of the Jewish maid
    Who wandered with the Holy Child,
    And how you led them through the wild,
And how they slept beneath your shade.
Sing to me of that odorous
    Green eve when crouching by the marge
    You heard from Adrian's gilded barge
The laughter of Antinous,
And lapped the stream, and fed your drouth,
    And watched with hot and hungry stare
    The ivory body of that rare
Young slave with his pomegranate mouth.
Sing to me of the Labyrinth
    In which the two-formed bull was stalled,
    Sing to me of the night you crawled
Across the temple's granite plinth
When through the purple corridors
    The screaming scarlet Ibis flew
    In terror, and a horrid dew
Dripped from the moaning Mandragores,
And the great torpid crocodile
    Within the great shed slimy tears,
    And tore the jewels from his ears
And staggered back into the Nile,
And the Priests cursed you with shrill psalms
    As in your claws you seized their snake
    And crept away with it to slake
Your passion by the shuddering palms.
Who were your lovers, who were they
    Who wrestled for you in the dust?
    Which was the vessel of your Lust,
What Leman had you every day?
Did giant lizards come and crouch
    Before you on the reedy banks?
    Did Gryphons with great metal flanks
Leap on you in your trampled couch,
Did monstrous hippopotami
    Come sidling to you in the mist
    Did gilt-scaled dragons write and twist
With passion as you passed them by?
And from that brick-built Lycian tomb
    What horrible Chimaera came
    With fearful heads and fearful flame
To breed new wonders from your womb?
Or had you shameful secret guests
    And did you harry to your home
    Some Nereid coiled in amber foam
With curious rock-crystal breasts;
Or did you, treading through the froth,
    Call to the brown Sidonian
    For tidings of Leviathan,
Leviathan or Behemoth?
Or did you when the sun was set,
    Climb up the cactus-covered slope
    To meet your swarthy Ethiop
Whose body was of polished jet?
Or did you while the earthen skiffs
    Dropt down the gray Nilotic flats
    At twilight, and the flickering bats
Flew round the temple's triple glyphs
Steal to the border of the bar
    And swim across the silent lake
    And slink into the vault and make
The Pyramid your lúpanar,
Till from each black sarcophagus
    Rose up the painted, swathèd dead?
    Or did you lure unto your bed
The ivory-horned Trageophos?
Or did you love the God of flies
    Who plagued the Hebrews and was splashed
    With wine unto the waist, or Pasht
Who had green beryls for her eyes?
Or that young God, the Tyrian,
    Who was more amorous than the dove
    Of Ashtaroth? or did you love
The God of the Assyrian,
Whose wings that like transparent talc
    Rose high above his hawk-faced head
    Painted with silver and with red
And ribbed with rods of Oreichalch?
Or did huge Apis from his car
    Leap down and lay before your feet
    Big blossoms of the honey-sweet,
And honey-coloured nenuphar?
How subtle secret is your smile;
    Did you love none then? Nay I know
    Great Ammon was your bedfellow!
He lay with you beside the Nile!
The river-horses in the slime
    Trumpeted when they saw him come
    Odorous with Syrian galbanum
And smeared with spikenard and with thyme.
He came along the river bank
    Like some tall galley argent-sailed
    He strode across the waters, mailed
In beauty and the waters sank.
He strode across the desert sand,
    He reached the valley where you lay:
    He waited till the dawn of day:
Then touched your black breasts with his hand.
You kissed his mouth with mouth of flame,
    You made the hornèd-god your own,
    You stood behind him on his throne:
You called him by his secret name,
You whispered monstrous oracles
    Into the caverns of his ears:
    With blood of goats and blood of steers
You taught him monstrous miracles,
While Ammon was your bedfellow
    Your chamber was the steaming Nile
    And with your curved Archaic smile
You watched his passion come and go.
With Syrian oils his brows were bright
    And wide-spread as a tent at noon
    His marble limbs made pale the moon
And lent the day a larger light,
His long hair was nine cubits span
    And coloured like that yellow gem
    Which hidden in their garments' hem,
The merchants bring from Kurdistan.
His face was as the must that lies
    Upon a vat of new-made wine,
    The seas could not insapphirine
The perfect azure of his eyes.
His thick, soft throat was white as milk
    And threaded with thin veins of blue
    And curious pearls like frozen dew
Were broidered on his flowing silk.
On pearl and porphyry pedestalled
    He was too bright to look upon
    For on his ivory breast there shone
The wondrous ocean-emerald,
That mystic, moonlight jewel which
    Some diver of the Colchian caves
    Had found beneath the blackening waves
And carried to the Colchian witch.
Before his gilded galiot
    Ran naked vine-wreathed corybants
    And lines of swaying elephants
Knelt down to draw his chariot,
And lines of swarthy Nubians
    Bore up his litter as he rode
    Down the great granite-paven road,
Between the nodding peacock fans.
The merchants brought him steatite
    From Sidon in their painted ships;
    The meanest cup that touched his lips
Was fashioned from a chrysolite.
The merchants brought him cedar chests
    Of rich apparel, bound with cords;
    His train was borne by Memphian lords;
Young kings were glad to be his guests.
Ten hundred shaven priests did bow
    To Ammon's altar day and night,
    Ten hundred lamps did wave their light
Through Ammon's carven house, and now
Foul snake and speckled adder with
    Their young ones crawl from stone to stone
    For ruined is the house, and prone
The great rose-marble monolith;
Wild ass or strolling jackal comes
    And crouches in the mouldering gates,
    Wild satyrs call unto their mates
Across the fallen fluted drums.
And on the summit of the pile,
    The blue-faced ape of Horus sits
    And gibbers while the fig-tree splits
The pillars of the peristyle.
The God is scattered here and there;
    Deep hidden in the windy sand
    I saw his giant granite hand
Still clenched in impotent despair.
And many a wandering caravan
    Of stately negroes, silken-shawled,
    Crossing the desert, halts appalled
Before the neck that none can span.
And many a bearded Bedouin
    Draws back his yellow-striped burnous
    To gaze upon the Titan thews
Of him who was thy paladin.
Go seek his fragments on the moor,
    And wash them in the evening dew,
    And from their pieces make anew
Thy mutilated paramour.
Go seek them where they lie alone
    And from their broken pieces make
    Thy bruisèd bedfellow! And wake
Mad passions in the senseless stone!
Charm his dull ear with Syrian hymns;
    He loved your body; oh be kind!
    Pour spikenard on his hair and wind
Soft rolls of linen round his limbs;
Wind round his head the figured coins,
    Stain with red fruits the pallid lips;
    Weave purple for his shrunken hips
And purple for his barren loins!
Away to Egypt! Have no fear;
    Only one God has ever died,
    Only one God has let His side
Be wounded by a soldier's spear.
But these, thy lovers, are not dead;
    Still by the hundred-cubit gate
    Dog-faced Anubis sits in state
With lotus lilies for thy head.
Still from his chair of porphyry
    Giant Memnon strains his lidless eyes
    Across the empty land and cries
Each yellow morning unto thee.
And Nilus with his broken horn
    Lies in his black and oozy bed
    And till thy coming will not spread
His waters on the withering corn.
Your lovers are not dead, I know,
    And will rise up and hear thy voice
    And clash their cymbals and rejoice
And run to kiss your mouth, and so,
Set wings upon your argosies!
    Set horses to your ebon car!
    Back to your Nile! Or if you are
Grown sick of dead divinities;
Follow some roving lion's spoor
    Across the copper-coloured plain,
    Reach out and hale him by the mane
And bid him to be your paramour!
Crouch by his side upon the grass
    And set your white teeth in his throat,
    And when you hear his dying note,
Lash your long flanks of polished brass
And take a tiger for your mate,
    Whose amber sides are flecked with black,
    And ride upon his gilded back
In triumph through the Theban gate,
And toy with him in amorous jests,
    And when he turns and snarls and gnaws,
    Oh smite him with your jasper claws
And bruise him with your agate breasts!
Why are you tarrying? Get hence!
    I weary of your sullen ways.
    I weary of your steadfast gaze,
Your somnolent magnificence.
Your horrible and heavy breath
    Makes the light flicker in the lamp,
    And on my brow I feel the damp
And dreadful dews of night and death,
Your eyes are like fantastic moons
    That shiver in some stagnant lake,
    Your tongue is like a scarlet snake
That dances to fantastic tunes.
Your pulse makes poisonous melodies,
    And your black throat is like the hole
    Left by some torch or burning coal
On Saracenic tapestries.
Away! the sulphur-coloured stars
    Are hurrying through the Western gate!
    Away! Or it may be too late
To climb their silent silver cars!
See, the dawn shivers round the gray,
    Gilt-dialled towers, and the rain
    Streams down each diamonded pane
And blurs with tears the wannish day.
What snake-tressed fury, fresh from Hell,
    With uncouth gestures and unclean,
    Stole from the poppy-drowsy queen
And led you to a student's cell?
What songless, tongueless ghost of sin
    Crept through the curtains of the night
    And saw my taper burning bright,
And knocked and bade you enter in?
Are there not others more accursed,
    Whiter with leprosies than I?
    Are Abana and Pharphar dry,
That you come here to slake your thirst?
False Sphinx! False Sphinx! By reedy Styx,
    Old Charon, leaning on his oar,
    Waits for my coin. Go thou before
And leave me to my crucifix,
Whose pallid burden, sick with pain,
    Watches the world with wearied eyes.
    And weeps for every soul that dies,
And weeps for every soul in vain.