The Caverns Of Kaf

(Love Sensual)

“‘Where am I?’ cried he; ‘what are these dreadful rocks? these valleys of darkness? are we arrived at the horrible Kaf?’”--Vathek.

One, Benreddin, I have heard, Near the town of Mosul sleeping, In a dream beheld a bird, Wonderful, with plumes of sweeping Whiteness, crowned pomegranate-red: And, it seemed, his soul it led, Brilliant as a blossom, keeping Near the Tigris as it fled.

Following, at last he came To a haggard valley, shouldered Under peaks that had no name: Where it vanished. ’Mid the bouldered Savageness a woman, fair, In a white simarre, stood there, Auburn-haired; around whom smoldered Pensive lights of purple air.

And she led him down to vast Caves of sardonyx, whose ceiling Domed one chrysoberyl. Blast On blast of music,--stealing Out of aural atmospheres,-- Beat like surf upon his ears; Then receded, faintly pealing Psalteries and dulcimers.

Living figures seemed to heave High the walls, where, wild, embattled, Warred Amshaspand and the Deev: Over all two splendors rattled Arms of Heaven, arms of Hell; Forms of flame that seemed to swell Godlike: Aherman who battled With Ormuzd he could not quell.

There she left him wond’ring; till The reverberant music, drifting, Strong beyond his utmost will, Drew him onward where, high lifting Pillar and entablature, Vast with emblem, yawned a door-- Valves of liquid lightning, shifting In and out and up and o’er.

Through the door he swept: deep-domed, Green with serpentine and beryl, Loomed a cavern, crusted, foamed, Tortuous with gems of peril: Difficult, a colonnade Seemed, of satin-spar, to braid Deeps of labyrinthed and sterile Tiger-spar that, twisting, rayed.

Dizzy stones of magic price Crammed volute and loaded corbel: Irridescent shafts of ice Leapt: with long reëchoed warble Waters unto waters sang: Crystal arc and column sprang Into fire as each marble Fountain flung its foam that rang.

And around him, filled with sound, Streams of resonant colors jetted: Rainbow surf that interwound Crypts and arcades, crescent-fretted: Mists of citron and of roon; Lemon lights that mocked the moon; Shot with scarlet, veined and netted, Beating golden hearts of tune.

Suns arose, of blinding blue; Moons of green-dilating splendor: In whose centers slowly grew Spots like serpents’ eyes that, slender, Glared; at first, prismatic beams; Then, intolerable gleams; Hissing trails of fire, tender As an houri’s breath that dreams.

Characters of Arabic, Cabalistic, red as coral, Flashed through violet veils, so quick None might read: as if, in quarrel, Iran wrote of Turan there Hate and scorn, or, everywhere, Wrought some talisman of moral Strength no Afrit’s heart would dare.

Sounding splendors drew him on To another cavern; hollow; Hewn of alabastar wan; Lucid; where his gaze could follow Caves in caves; transparent flights Rolling, lost in moving lights, Glaucous gold: he like a swallow O’er a lake the morning smites.

Down the dome flashed out and in Instant faces of the Peris: Restless eyes of Deevs and Jinn In the walls watched: unseen Faeries Out of rainbows rained and tossed Flowers of fire full of frost; Blossoms where the fire varies, Gold and green and crimson-mossed.

Then there met him, face to face, Seven odalisques of Heaven, Swinging in a silver space Flaming censers: and the seven, Crowned with stars of burning green, Seemed to turn to incense; seen, As it rose, to be a driven Hippogrif, or rosmarine.

Aloes, Nard, and Ambergris, Sandal, Frankincense, and Civet,-- Genii of the fragrances,-- Rein each winged aroma; give it Spurs and race it down the lull Of the caverns, clouded dull With wild manes of musk; now vivid, Vaporous white and wonderful.

And Benreddin’s aching soul, In each sense intoxicated, Reached, at last, what seemed the goal Of all passion: golden-gated, Vast, a fountain: where he saw Limbs of light without a flaw; Breasts and arms of bloom; that waited For his soul to nearer draw.

Houri faces shimmered there; Fluid forms.--It, with a thunder Of wild music, like the hair Of a genie, flamed from under Caverns of the demon-world: Filled with voices, high it hurled, Calling him, with beckoning wonder Of cœrulean forms that swirled.

And with burning lips and eyes In he plunged: hoarse laughter greeted, Demon laughter: then sad sighs, Dying downward: passion-heated Hands seemed drawing him away, Downward: where a rocking ray Flamed and swung, and Eblis-sheeted Shadows wandered ghostly gray.

* * * * *

And, ’tis said, that he was young, Young that morning. When the darting, Anguish-throated bulbuls sung, In the silent starlight starting, One, a Baghdad merchant, led By the hoarness of its head, Found what seemed a mummy: parting Hair from brow, Benreddin--dead.