This year indeed was
another annus mirabilis for me. There was an almost
continual outpouring of the Holy Spirit through my mind. The
spring of poetry shot crystal clear from the hidden furnace of
my being into the pure and brilliant air, and fell and
fertilized the earth about the sacred hill. A thousand years
from now men will still gather round in wonder and worship to
gaze upon the gorgeous pageant of flowers that glow upon the
glowing grass and to feast upon the ripe fruits that burden the
two great trees which tower like pillars for a gateway to my
— the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil and the
Tree of Life.
Let me first enumerate the
comparatively profane achievements of these few months. Firstly,
the Gulf". This is a prose story of some twenty
thousand words. The theme is my own life in the 26th Dynasty,
when I was Ankh-f-n-khonsu and brought about the Aeon of Osiris
to replace that of Isis. The story must not be taken as true in
the ordinary sense of the word, but as allegorical.
I wrote many lyrics, but
especially "The Sevenfold Sacrament". This poem subsequently
appeared in the English Review and has often been
reprinted. It is, one might say, a pendant to
It is one of my finest achievements from a technical point of
view and describes the actual experience of a night which I
spent at Montigny. I was staying at an inn called the Vanne
Rouge, on the bank of the Loing overlooking a weir. (The inn has
since then become fashionable and impossible; at that time it
was adorable in every way.)
— The Confessions of Aleister Crowley.
New York, NY. Hill and Wang, 1969. Pages 665-666.