Summoning midnight brings its toll to hell
And fire shall live on him who thrived by cold.
The blood Don, famished glutton of sin, shall
Lie proud with flame, under its flagrance rolled.
Next to God God’s very likeness, believer
In death he fleered, in chastity he burst,
The black Don mad with knowledge like a fever
Sees himself plunge beneath a covering beast.
‘He mocks himself who mocks me with a soul
Like his. See I have eaten it, drunk the blood
From my heart’s host and shall fat me still
On pride left virgin for the lust of God.’
Brave Don, go down. The lechery of flame
Shall fumble at the meat around the bone,
And pride itself, like you once, to blaspheme
The whitest hope and give for love a stone.
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