Dionysus

By Aleister Crowley

I bring ye wine from above,

From the vats of the storied sun;

For every one of yer love,

And life for every one.

Ye shall dance on hill and level;

Ye shall sing in hollow and height

In the festal mystical revel,

The rapurous Bacchanal rite!

The rocks and trees are yours,

And the waters under the hill,

By the might of that which endures,

The holy heaven of will!

I kindle a flame like a torrent

To rush from star to star;

Your hair as a comet’s horrent,

Ye shall see things as they are!

I lift the mask of matter;

I open the heart of man;

For I am of force to shatter

The cast that hideth -Pan!

Your loves shall lap up slaughter,

And dabbled with roses of blood

Each desperate darling daughter

Shall swim in the fervid flood.

I bring ye laughter and tears,

The kisses that foam and bleed,

The joys of a million years,

The flowers that bear no seed.

My life is bitter and sterile,

Its flame is a wandering star.

Ye shall pass in pleasure and peril

Across the mystic bar

That is set for wrath and weeping

Against the children of earth;

But ye in singing and sleeping

Shall pass in measure and mirth!

I lift my wand and wave you

Through hill to hill of delight :

My rosy rivers lave you

In innermost lustral light..

I lead you, lord of the maze,

In the darkness free of the sun;

In spite of the spite that is day’s

We are wed, we are wild, we are one.

At Shigar Baltistan.