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of  Atlas,  "are  they  within us.  Let us  call  them  forth  by 
utterance  that is not uttered,  by the gesture that is not made, 
by the working that is above all working,  for they are great and 
glorious,  rays of our father the Sun.  Then from our bride  that 
waits  for  us in the nuptial chamber,  green in the green  West, 
blue in the blue East,  exalted above our father in the even  and 
in the morn, spring forth our heirs and our hosts, to greet us in 
the darkness.  Dim-glimmering are our gardens in the light of the 
seed  of light;  they are peopled with shadows;  they take  form; 
they  are as serpents,  they are as trees,  they are as the  holy 
Zcrra,  they  are  as  all things straight or  curved,  they  are 
winged,  they are wonderful. With us do they work, and that which 
was  but one in seven,  and that which was two is become  eleven! 
With us do they work,  and give us of the draught miraculous;  us 
do they instruct in magic,  and feed us the delicate food. Let us 
call  forth them that are within us,  that they that are  without 
may enter in, as it was made manifest by Him that maketh secret." 
This passage,  not devoid of a rude eloquence,  makes clear  what 
was held in exoteric circles. For in Atlas the poet was not as in 
England  a  holy and exalted being,  one set apart for  his  high 
calling,  throned in the hearts of the people, cherished by kings 
and  nobles,  one  on whom no wealth and honour are too great  to 
shower,  but  one  of the people themselves,  of no  greater  con 
sequence than any other.  Every man was an artist in so far as he 
was a man;  and every man being equally so in nature,  whether so 
in achievement or not mattered nothing, as appreciation was of no 
moment.  Accomplishing Art for the sake of Art,  the interest  of 
the creator in his work died with its creation.  It may therefore 
be possible that these words are those of poetic exaggeration, or 
that  there  is  a concealed meaning in them,  or that  they  are 
intended  to mask and mislead,  or that the poet was not  himself 
fully instructed.  Indeed it is certain that only the High  House 
had  the  secrets of Atlas,  and that the magicians of the  House 
held  the  undeniable if sometimes dangerous  doctrine  that  the 
truth  and  falsehood of any statement alternated as do  day  and 
night  according  to the status of the hearer of  the  statement. 
However,  so  strong  is the tradition concerning the  'Angel  of 
Venus' that it must at least be considered carefully.  The theory 
appears  to have been that if the magicians of Venus invited  the 
Atlanteans,  means  would  assuredly follow,  just as if  a  King 
summons  a  paralysed  man to his presence,  he  will  also  send 
officers  to  convey  him.  Now whether the 'Angel of  Venus'  is 
really an angel in anything like the modern sense of the word, or 
merely  a title of one of the principal magicians of the  planet, 
it is evident that the High House ardentl  desired his  presence. 
That  this  might be manifested by the birth of a child  'without 
the  stain  of  Atla' was clearly  an  ultimate  desideratum,  an 
outward and visible sign of redemption,  an obvious guarantee  of 
the  reality  of  the  occurrence.  It was  then  a  Virgin  high 
priestess  who achieved so notable a renown;  whether or not this 
is a mere poetic parable of the abiogenesis--if it is indeed fair 
so to describe it--of the eleventh stage of Zro is another and an 
open question.  In any case,  such is the tradition, and numerous 
parodies  of it are still extant in the stories of the births  of 
Romulus  and  Remus,  Bacchus,  Buddha and many  other  legendary 
heroes  of  modern times;  we even catch an echo in the myths  of 
such barbarian lands as Syria.
   So  much  and  no more concerning the Underground  Gardens  of