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Voynich, E. L. (Ethel Lillian), 1864-1960

"The Gadfly"

Eat of it, cannibals; eat of it, all of you!
This is your feast and your orgy; this is the day of
your joy! Haste you and come to the festival;
join the procession and march with us; women
and children, young men and old men--come to
the sharing of flesh! Come to the pouring of
blood-wine and drink of it while it is red; take
and eat of the Body----
Ah, God; the fortress! Sullen and brown, with
crumbling battlements and towers dark among the
barren hills, it scowled on the procession sweeping
past in the dusty road below. The iron teeth
of the portcullis were drawn down over the mouth
of the gate; and as a beast crouched on the mountain-side,
the fortress guarded its prey. Yet, be
the teeth clenched never so fast, they shall be
broken and riven asunder; and the grave in the
courtyard within shall yield up her dead. For the
Christian hosts are marching, marching in mighty
procession to their sacramental feast of blood, as
marches an army of famished rats to the gleaning;
and their cry is: "Give! Give!" and they say
not: "It is enough.


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