The Duchess of Hell

Pride Ed

I.
She’s mentioned in plays and operas;
Disgraced human dramas and arias!
Decaying disciples chanting last rites
Before she smites thee with all of her might!
Sung text by dead scholars, so vague is her name;
Dark choir still chants “Patron Saint of Pain!
Give us your hate, thy mote it be!
Praise dear Sister of Misery!”   

She was defiled in nameless hours of moonlight,
And wept at cold altar on a cold on All Hallows’ Eve Night.
Dark, loathsome phantoms! They seen her as she bled
Innocence out. On her darkness they fed!
From behind fallen temples those raised who God Dammed.
They awoke to consult her. The crypts! They slammed!
Flocked to persuade her; to avenge her loss.
So she gave them her soul; every aborted cross!

II.
He arose from Hell her thousandth year as written.
A general of legion, this black knight was smitten.
A Duke of ire adorned in armor and Venetian wear;
This handsome old youth with Byronic flare!
In her chaos he watched her spread pestilence,
Embraced suicides, and promised them deliverance.
He appeared to her in lust, and in love,
And said “I am here for thee, my soiled dove.”

In shrouded, dark ruins on the face of the moon,
There’s Lord Arioch, a delighted groom,
With our lady beside him in black silk and lace.
Lonely, dark nights they seek to erase!
He’ll love her forever, his sweet murderess;
Heavens shook above them at the sight of their kiss!
For the king of anger, and the angel of hate
Have united as one. Revenge cannot wait!