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Star In the West TNR.pdf - The Hermetic Library

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Fatal Force,” “<strong>The</strong> Mo<strong>the</strong>r’s Tragedy,” and also in “Jezebel”; not so in<br />

“Tannhäuser” and “<strong>The</strong> Nameless Quest,” where love is not restrained, but<br />

ra<strong>the</strong>r cramped by <strong>the</strong> gnostic idea of evil in <strong>the</strong> objective. This curious idea<br />

we will go into more fully later on, at present we shall content ourselves in<br />

dealing with <strong>the</strong> first phase of Love – love in youth.<br />

*”Perverted” I object to here, as it is but a synonym of ‘converted’ from a different point<br />

of view.<br />

<strong>In</strong> “Why Jesus Wept,” which is a satirical serio-comedy, mingled with<br />

heterodox ribaldry, and a shrewd and sweeping cynicism on <strong>the</strong> utter<br />

rottenness of social life, we find love in youth depicted in <strong>the</strong> person of Sir<br />

Percy Percival, aged sixteen. <strong>The</strong> first effusion of puberty is described in<br />

<strong>the</strong>-following three lines:<br />

*Why Jesus Wept, vol. iii, p. 28.<br />

…what shall slake<br />

This terrible thirst,<br />

This torment accurst?*<br />

This, as is usually <strong>the</strong> case, finds an outlet in <strong>the</strong> first pretty maid who<br />

happens to cross youth’s burning path, and in this case <strong>the</strong> fair damozel is<br />

Molly Tyson, and <strong>the</strong> first scene of <strong>the</strong>ir meeting is most typical:<br />

Sir Percy. Ah, love, love, how I love you. This is <strong>the</strong> world! Love!<br />

Love! I love you so, my darling. Oh my white golden heart of glory!*<br />

*Why Jesus Wept, vol. iii, p. 30.<br />

Eternity is moulded in form of her kiss, and even if “Hell belch its monsters<br />

one by: one to stop <strong>the</strong> way! I would be <strong>the</strong>re” cries Sir Percy as he and<br />

Molly rush backwards and forwards kissing and kissing before <strong>the</strong>y can<br />

finally part. And no sooner has he parted with her, having sworn eternal love<br />

and to meet her at moonrise, than he stumbles across a bedizened hag of<br />

sixty-three (society), and in ten minutes, because she calls herself “<strong>the</strong><br />

wretchedest girl on <strong>the</strong> wide earth,” discovers “she is most beautiful”; “How<br />

she speaks! It is indeed an angel singing,” and asks if he may call her<br />

Angela, and forgets his poor village girl, and utterly overcome when she<br />

says, (“I am a poor and simple girl, and my eyes are aching with <strong>the</strong> sight of

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