A poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson, in honor of the upcoming Hell Mythos story “The Kraken.”
Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
A poem by Jonathan Swift, of Gulliver’s Travels fame, that reminds us the truest Hell is here on Earth.
THE PLACE OF THE DAMNED
All folks who pretend to religion and grace,
Allow there’s a HELL, but dispute of the place:
But if HELL may by logical rules be defined
The place of the damn’d–I’ll tell you my mind.
Wherever the damn’d do chiefly abound,
Most certainly there is HELL to be found:
Damn’d poets, damn’d critics, damn’d blockheads, damn’d knaves;
Damn’d senators bribed, damn’d prostitute slaves;
Damn’d lawyers and judges, damn’d lords and damn’d squires;
Damn’d spies and informers, damn’d friends and damn’d liars;
Damn’d villains, corrupted in every station;
Damn’d time-serving priests all over the nation;
And into the bargain I’ll readily give you
Damn’d ignorant prelates, and councillors privy.
Then let us no longer by parsons be flamm’d,
For we know by these marks the place of the damn’d:
And HELL to be sure is at Paris or Rome.
How happy for us that it is not at home!