Lit Heroes #14 - Melmoth

Hitherto ’t was quite stark the converse:
Telling falsely joyful news, the depraved betimes
Coveted to administer me their own psychical sap;
But this one errant, with his brazen straw aglow…

Foolhardily counting of my bloom, pretending
That I be bitten by the naughty archfiend
And must needs be ridded of a venom he oculated into me.

But I know not of this, friend, I am certain
Mine earthly days have not suffered yet such mishap.
I have coped with many a rascal and worse––
Yet their familiar bruised eyne meant less harm!

Whereas I notice that thou callest for no fewer
Than to suck the juiciest part off my soul.

And didst thou succeed, then lasted but the thick of that broth
Which is of no great avail for the diffident shape
Lacking the means to baste further.

Since how can I do with the gobbet alone?
I will give thee my spoon, then, ghastly spook––
Have this parched remnant also!

But, cloyed, he hath gone forth already…

July 16, 2007