Thunder in the black skies beating down the rain,
Thunder in the black cliffs, looming o’er the main,
Thunder on the black sea and thunder in my brain.
God’s on the night wind, Satan’s on his throne
By the red lake lurid and great grim stone–
Still through the roofs of Hell the brooding thunders drone.
Trident for a rapier, Satan thrusts and foins
Crouching on his throne with his great goat loins–
Souls are his footstools and hearts are his coins.
Slave of all the ages, though lord of the air;
Solomon o’ercame him, set him roaring there,
Crouching on the coals where the great flames flare.
Thunder from the grim gulfs, out of cosmic deep
Where the red eyes glimmer and the black wings sweep,
Thunder down to Satan, wake him from his sleep!
Thunder on the shores of Hell, scattering the coal,
Riding down the mountain on the moon-mare’s foal,
Blasting out the caves of the gnome and the troll.
Satan, brother Satan, rise and break your chain!
Solomon is dust and his spells grow vain–
Rise through the world in the thunder and the rain.
Rush upon the cities, roaring in your might,
Break down the towers in the moon’s pale light,
Build a wall of corpses for God’s great sight,
Quench the red thunder in my brain this night.