A Glimpse of Hades
It smote upon a mountain crag -
The flaming steel of Magog's throne;
Which from the lake of sulfur rose,
And fell with wrath of godless angels,
Burning through the trees of Tormont,
Crumbling their great stems to ash.
Leaves flew down from lofty home,
And smouldering they fluttering fell,
Trailing smoke and ashen fragments;
Cracks upon the face of earth,
Spread apart from quaking focus,
Giant boulders were uprooted,
Flung down miles into hell.
From nine levels of the chasm,
Buried in the liquid lead,
Wails, cries for cooling water
Rose from the eternal dead.
Shuddering horror, eyes were lifted
To the opening, cubits wide:
'Twas a channel to the light,
Of which they longed for a sight,
But none of them had strength to rise
Above the fire, to the skies.
When the Fire-Mountain's mouth
Groaned and trembled, slowly closed.
Breaking forth, tormented screams,
Dispelled all light and crushed their dreams,
Of freedom from the Beast's dire claws,
To which they were subjected to,
For disregarding Love's two Laws;
They had been given sight of air,
Only to feed each one's despair.
All that had fallen to the mountain,
Swallowed by Gehenna's Pit,
Ignited in the Lake of Fire,
Blasted heat of Justice's ire,
Into the faces of the Masters,
Drove them into frenzied panic.
And the Beast, slave to his hatred,
So enticed to make God's creatures,
Suffer to the utmost limit,
Chained himself upon the furnace,
Roared his blasphemous revilings,
At the stone-sealed gate of Hell -
Knowing to himself full well,
That never could he harm his Lord.
Yet ever still his malice drives him,
E'en though light torments his eyes,
Will open the gate, let fuel fall,
To burn his slaves, his masters, haters -
Fall upon his face on fire,
To hide himself from Heaven's skies.
~ Whitecap Forged