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Selestor's Men of Atlantis

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Amanda Messenger
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« Reply #30 on: December 15, 2008, 10:24:10 pm »

p. 150

CHAPTER XXI
Arrival of the Northmen and their allies. Morning and the sea-fight.

Swift came the foemen's galleys ere the night fell down upon the sea.

They danced upon the waves and boded ill if supple, smiting hand of that invading army held to grim and wanton slaughter. Wolves, in truth, were they!

"They pray to gods with black, black hair and eyes!" sang Olaf merrily.

"To gods who so forget that sleep falls heavily upon the galley's lord who bides on shore while galleys swing to anchor.

"Sleep falls upon the watchmen at their gates, on youth trained well for battle.

"Age, too, sleeps, for so my gods do whisper in mine ear.

"My men, row gleefully, for night doth fall all soon and we must reach that border faint—outlined—the outline of an isle so ladened with its riches wonder we that it sinks not.

"O beauteous isle of sea and sun, I come with arms outstretched to seek a welcome!"

Loud he laughed and long, and others took the laughter from his mood, and voices mingling echoed on the waves.

Behind the wooded cape the stern Atlantians sat in galleys stilled but for the rippling sea. Each thought of home, of loved, of altars where the ashes of their dead were blessed and urned for centuries.

p. 151

The leaders, every man a king in mien and thought, for unto him looked every soul for succor on his isle. He failed them not.

"The tide doth higher rise and closer we to shore must creep, nor show one spear to foeman yet." This was the order silently obeyed.

"Tonight our feet shall tread the flowery isle," sang Olaf's men, as near and nearer drew the galleys to the shore.

A league beyond the border!

Sunk the sun and bright as burnished silver swung the Tropic Moon, her million lamps all lighted. Day indeed it seemed again had dawned.

The wily men of Asia spake at length: “Ye men of Northland love the cold, white moon, but we who dwell where reach its smiting beams know well its virulence, its baleful power.

“The forest aisles are lit as well for beasts that prowl as man, and if, perchance, Atlantis’ king and guards sleep not, what better target for their spears than we who land with moonlight showing well each helm?

“Seek we not at night our booty. By the light of day let warriors wander through those aisles of green where serpents lurk and beasts, for ivory slain, go crashing.

“Seek the isle at morn and set us men as vanguards, to the rear—keen-eyed, alert, who know the island's speech and they are faithful to their leaders.”

Bold Olaf pondered and at last he spake: "Let bide the galleys near the shore; when day shall dawn we wander through those aisles of green indeed! for night shall see us reeking, heavy—piled with spoil."

Impatient bode they on the drifting barques throughout the night, and when the morning broke

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again the isle which seemed as shadow rose full clear.

"Oh, beauteous isle we come!" sang Olaf loud, and flax-haired warriors joined again in song despite protesting of the Mongol hordes who took their joy in silence. No halting of the men whose homes were menaced, then, but from the sheltering curve, past wooded point, which well had hid their fleet, the galleys shot with speed.

By tens and tens they hurled them to the wondering eyes until the sea seemed filled with flying boats that caught the sun on spear-point, helm; and prow gave back the color of the rising sun. A glorious sight that in the heart must live long after all had passed, and Time grown old to tale, and men had died and others born again who sailed the selfsame waters.

The Northmen gazed and lips fell parting. "Whence comes the fleet?" they asked in awe-struck tones, and every face showed wonder—wonder turned to hate.

"Betrayed! Betrayed! what galley left our fleet? What traitor babbled to approaching hordes? Cut out his tongue when these Atlantian dogs, first beaten back to land, shall so divulge his name we know the traitor; Asiaite is he! Forth to battle, Men!"

Thus Olaf; and each Northman at the sound leaped to his spear, or axe or yet a stave that smote and cleft.

"To battle," was the cry.

"The snow land wolves are false!" the Asiaites softly spake. "We know their value! Know their blackened hearts, and after death is dealt to them of that proud, flying fleet we tear the wolves in twain, and hearts that beat in breasts of traitors

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now, shall quiver on our lances! Aye, they all shall perish! lying dogs of snow!"

Ah, bright the sun bore on the armored hordes!

A trumpet from Atlantis’ fleet called low. Called louder, and fierce thousands caught the note and swelled the sound in volume floating o’er the sea. Low calls, low answers. Louder yet the strain had swelled again. The answer seemed a challenge to the foe. It rose triumphant; every listening heart was thrilled with that wild prelude to the fight.

It brought to eye the vision of the strife. There clung the clutching warriors, heard the calls of captains calm, the hurry of the conflict when the foe fell thickest; then there came the tranquil strain that marked the end when victory was won.

The foemen heard and wondered at the cloud of sound. The troubled, shivering waves seemed waters dark indeed.

The trumpet's call a voice from Hecla's base: "Come hither! Hither! Hither!" floating died, in moans.

The brow of Olaf dampened, turned to ice. His heart sunk, laughed he loud withal: "What play of children! Warriors! look to swords. We still yon harper's notes! death-gurgle sounds shall be all sweet beside that strangling wail of trumpet in barbarian's sinewy, grimy hand."

His locks were yellow as the light on corn, his form as pine the straightest, his mien a king's indeed, but—Olaf—!

Asia in her borrowed boats felt thrill; a sound, in mind, familiar spake to them of lands where once their blood had run in veins now ashes—dust; perchance the things that grew upon the plains afar where now their homes awaited after—victory? each asked the question doubting in his heart.

"We fight with gods," they muttered, man to

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man. "What hope have we with such, who hold in sway the voice of birds, of nightingales, the moan of ravens, reed-gull calling to her young?"

Their leaders felt the mood and swiftly spake: "To war! To spoil! To black-eyed maids whose lips shall speak of love as slow the summer days wear on!

"To spoil! To sands where grains of gold doth lie! Great garlands of bright gems! Where piles of silk hold scent that makes the rose seem rank as any weed! To spoil!"

The sullen men of Zambesi but fixed their eyes on the well favored men who from Atlantis oft had sailed unto their shores in boats unlike their own yet equal in their worth, and strength and swiftness.

Sullen spake these men: "We war not on Atlantis."

"To the gyves! To chains, they go!" called he, the leader, head of that bold band of Mongols.

But one captain eager spake, who peril saw—one captain of Zambesi:

"Men, we may not fight this day within the narrow confines of our galleys, on our brothers warring—brothers in our need. They gave us freedom, chance for equal spoil. Atlantis is our foe, since we are part of this great army which hath set to war."

Thus in the galleys of the plunderers peace prevailed.

Swift rowed the invaders; Olaf of the north at head of fleet to right; to left, the yellow men, and black and strong as tiger old and hardened in his fights rode men of Zambesi beside.

Atlantis with her eagles, yellow bloom of lilies at her prow, came swiftly; heeded not the stroke of missiles at her left and right.

Ten slaves to the front of bold Ulsantis stood with shields of metal rare that blunted spear and

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warded stroke from that proud head whose brain directed all.

"Ho, men of snow," they shouted, "come ye nigh! We feed the fish upon thy northern bulk today, a dainty rare for sharks.

"Ho, robbers! Wanderers! Ye of Asia! Plotting in your line for centuries, keep thy lances for thy victims less, alas, than we!"

Then from the throats of all there burst the long, sad wail presaging war or death. A wail that shook the fleet with trembling mood. A wail that o’er the desert have I heard when mighty men were met in savage war. A cry, which, handed down the line gave foe in Egypt, centuries after, fear.

It was the cry of Ram and Phenox, Ses and other gods "who victory gave."

The Northmen's cry rang out, at first but trembling; for the foemen's cry spake tombs and places where the souls of Northmen trend, not to their minds.

Low fell the cry of Asia. Plains and sands, to them familiar, seemed afar, and thoughts turned from the water to the waste and made the voice to falter, yet the blood of stern resolve took fire at last and ran in fire and made the hand to spring to weapon, fierce the cry rose then.

Thus galley met with galley. Spears which gleamed drank of a redder fluid than the light that showered over, heeding not the fray that reddened sea, made waves to dance as body leaped on body, thrown to sea by mad encounter that would rock the land and cause the sea to bubble, foam and roar, and waves dashed high as sped the galleys on.

Fierce cries marked battle of the common horde, but silent on his swivel bench the slave, bold eyed with lips a-twitch with wrath, had held his oar till at

p. 156

some well aimed stroke he fell all palsied and his duty done.

Atlantis, silent from the first long cry, dealt blow on blow. The master mind, that drank from him who lay in pain upon his couch, directing all with even words and calm, through instrument which made his voice to sound familiar in the ear of every man who fought in galley of his land.

Ten galleys did engage ten of the foes. Reserves flew swift to aid when one succumbed to stroke, and thus a wall of warriors met each charging boat. Condensed the numbers, so that none might say: "The gap is made! The break we pass with speed!"

The empty galleys swiftly bore to rear. The wounded followed in the cushioned barques, and fierce as tiger dam twelve long-speared warriors guarded well each boat, so that no foeman dared to brand the dead, or captive make of wounded.

Thus taught the men of Mars, and thus Atlantian sages learned. The galleys of the Northmen sought to lock with the Atlantian, but their three-edged spears beat hard on wood and clave it, broke to left and right, the Atlantians, nor halted.

"Fare away!" cried they.

The galley slaves who rowed with wondrous skill, made boats as rams that fight and drave the foemen far, some overturned, some cleft by axe so sharp that steel itself was bitten; rent in twain the stoutest timbers by the Atlantian's spik’ed sides and valves of fire at prow, that men ne’er dreamed were heated by a force drawn from the air, but showed not fire, was keen surprise indeed which boded death to every man who made a point of entry where the balls hung low from iron caskets, but ornament in truth they seemed.

With numbers sought the Mongol to maintain his vantage.

p. 157

Flesh is frail when formed in wall, and every fierce advance was checked by missile-throwers of Atlantis who fought, nor made attack, for thus Atlantians were forbade, but held protection of the life and home a duty all must learn.

As creature playing with the thing which lieth dead by one soft stroke, the island soldiers fought till came an hour when Law was all forgot and man leaped forth a demon of the sea.

One boat held priests who prayed with men who died—young priests who side by side had strove with these, their brothers of the spear, when from an island of the southern sea came men for plunder.

The Northmen spake: "They shrive their dead!" they smiled. "What need have warriors for the parting boon when war absolves from sin they who have died? Sail out with me. The man who battles not in galley now must die! The fish of foul portent shall batten upon priestly fare today!" And so three galleys sailed to beat to nothingness the galley of the priests.

Swift sailed they and swift halted; their intent so sudden that the men of peace turned pale though fearing not for self but for the wounded men who called on gods with pain-drawn, quivering lips.

A crash! A crash! the ladened galley sank at blows of Northmen. Far to sea it lay.

Like lions roused to anger rose the men of that great island fleet. "Behold! the blood ye shed shall be as naught to that which we this day shall spill, to redden sea for league on league of Northmen's, Asia's blood! Look well!"

’Tis done! The serpent-shapen caskets took for aiming the clayed, death-dealing matter, great spears were set and staves made ready in the hands of slaves and silent-lipped as wings of Death fold down swept every galley—each for every foe.

p. 158

Fell slaughter reigned. The great and three-edged spears held by Atlantians fell as swift as shafts of lightning on the helm of steel or toughened fiber; deep on skull they drave. A pulpy mass it seemed beneath the metal made by science learned from nations far, and planet-men and they with brain so tuned to subtle notes of usage that it seemed as gods had talked to men with lips to ear.

Proud Olaf fell beneath a mass of dead, and sullen rowed his slaves far out to sea and followed many.

"We take no captives here! We ask no wolf to share our beauteous isle! The sea may swallow and the fish may eat!" was each Atlantian's thought.

The men of Asia fiercer battled yet Zambesi's warrior's silent fought with spear that drank not deep of the Atlantian blood.

The shock on shock of galleys sent by oars that snapped not, neither failed in object sought, made noise as muttered thunder; the fiery missiles swiftly flung from hand so skilled that never man escaped; the shouting, shrieking of the rabble of Zambesi's horde, when closely pressed, fell like frail reeds before the silent thrust and deft—shot showers of fiery balls.

One galley sunk another followed close, sucked down, or shattered by the bolts of stone fierce-heated, which Atlantis’ steel-clad galleys bore.

The Northmen's last fierce effort to surpass that silent army was a gallant thing to witness:

King Olaf's son, a youth of tender years, stood at the helm of galley turning from retreat; with armed hand and breast secured from spear by rows of steel-shod shields by mighty men upborn, and in his wake one hundred galleys bore with remnant of the Northmen, caught the Admiral's eye.

Like thorn-set stems the Northmen's bristling

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spears protruded, ten on ten, and staves glanced high, and missile-throwers’ shot, from tridents.

"Lost the Atlantians now, nor dare their men throw missiles save in extremest moments," spake the youth, for thus was told the island's custom.

Those northern galleys flew across the waves and smote with prow such galley as the captains marked to smite, with force like that flung out by giant's hand.

Men staggered, fell, nor fell in death, perchance, but rose sore bruised in body yet with soul so willed to battle that each hand clutched harder yet the spear.

All loved the foeman youth for that brave front, and not one spear was pointed, stave was thrown at that proud flaxen head, whose locks strayed bright beneath the heavy casque.

And stood he proudly still, young Olaf, when had fallen twelve hundred warriors; fell in sea or writhing sore in galleys, bearing dead and wounded, which was sunk by Atlantis’ spear-like spikes resembling those about a palace tower set.

There clouds of fire. There silent, sullen, mien; there galleys smiting charges hold the foe at bay and show their hopeless mission and the day was done!

There dead-filled galleys pile on earlier pile; the fish float heavy from their feed of dead, and to the northward hastening are seen such numbers as have chosen flight to glorious death.

"We homeward turn, O men, O gods of this great isle of sea!" so wailed the foe in song.

"The day is done! the chance for victory o’er! we to the desert go!" With glittering eyes the Mongol softly spake.

Zambesi's somber men spake scarce a word, but, hopeless, glared:

"A king of this Atlantis is our friend; behold!

p. 160

henceforth his subjects, we. What ho! We swear our fealty," loud the leaders spake.

And galley met with galley, back to Atlantis bore the slaves of him, Zambesi's king, who later pardoned all, the fragment of a band. And over all, the shattered, saddened souls who bode in battered galley—bode in shell of body still, there fell a calm when voice of trumpet spake.

The night lust falling. Soft and low the call as mother's to her babe, then loud and clear, then angry murmur swelling, later fell in fierce glad cry of victory as sunk the sun to rest, the sun which vied in blood-red glow with foam upon the waves of stranger hue, all spotted with the life-blood from the veins of men so brave their names were spake with reverence by younger lips that followed o’er the sea.

Atlantis laid her dead in funeral barge and slowly homeward set. The trumpets plaint the long night through foretold disaster to the waiting ones, and to their ears it numbered all their dead, but spake no fell defeat.

"The dead are warriors, such their fate," they spake, but far beyond the shining Moon their souls are wending.

"We mourn not for them; they are quaffing glory from the Fount.

"Their life-pulse beateth on the ether planes.

"We still of earth may envy but not grieve, and yet our galleys number less by half than when we fared us forth.

"But, joy! Our foe hath ridden out to sea in battered hulk—a remnant of that army mocking us this morn."



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« Reply #31 on: December 15, 2008, 10:24:52 pm »

p. 161

CHAPTER XXII
Death of the king of Atlantis on the day of the great sea-fight.

Thou asketh of the fate of him, the king who reigned when the great nations met in war upon the day that followed fête?

Aye, thus I speak as through thy hand I mark events to make the world of knowledge learn that I am man, though yet unseen by thee or others’ eyes—am called but "Selestor."

False the name, and history writes in tomes my name once known to nations; yet I hold it well to guard the secret—secret of a line which, sunk in deep oblivion all that bore the emblem of a state but mocked today.

The death of him who reigned when Northmen bold did seek to barter strength for beauty's prize, for gems, the isle itself, exchange perchance for northern border cold and grey, the haunt of bear and snarling wolf, and frost, black, deadly to the tender Southern ones. Such was our theme.

He whom Atlantis called her king was wise, not wily, and excess he did abhor; and yet that day his galleys sailed to war he drank him deep of "liquor," as ye speak in modern times.

An alcoholic liquor made from wheat and juice of palm. A mixture fiery and reserved for revelers; but the king befitting thought the draught in time of stress, so drank he long and deep.

His brain grew dizzy nor sight nor sound he knew, and falling prone, ere slaves could spring to save, the kingly brow smote marble and his senses

p. 162

fled and yet he lingered. Slaves stood near to spring at leeches' bidding for the quickening draught or cooling mixture, for the bowl of gold that caught the flow from pierced arm.

And yet no sense returned till evening. No glance of recognition met the gaze of her, his queen, nor of them—the buds of kingly tree to bloom when he had passed, the daughters fair, and son, the prince—the king!

And as he lingered came an ancient one unto his door—door bereft of hanging, that the wind of eve might freshly blow across the clammy brow, perchance bring healing in its salted breath all scented with the kisses of the rose, the lily white which marked the king's domain, the jasmine growing where the palm tree's shade cast cooling shadows.

All was peace and calm, save in the hearts of subjects, torn that day with various woes—the youth of nation on the sea to war—the king in stupor—waiting they.

Crept an ancient one into the hall where on the ivory couch the king lay prone.

Spake she, unchecked, for grief had so sore beset the leech that vaunted skill fulfilled no purpose.

Statesmen stood dumb, the queen had fled and by the hand led children weeping sore—the offspring of a line of kings for generations, but their hearts, as tender as the slaves bore sorrow ill.

With lips that set all firmly, brow that frowned, spake she, the ancient: "King, but not a god, ye now are called! and going take not state nor thing of earth, not life nor love nor gold to mark thee aught save but a wandering soul!

"And yet, mayhap, the state which Earth doth keep the gods permit in realms more fair than

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thine, which yet is fairer than this earth holds other-where."

“Why speakest thou? Begone! hushed the voice of one big with authority. And slaves were bidden take the intruder from the palace.

“But the ancient rose to height unthought of: “Touch me not! He dieth! He—the son who drew his life from this shrunk form! This do I swear who face the stroke of Ses and shall I, whose moments thus are numbered, dare speak me false?

“Ah, nay! His sire a king, but I, whose glorious crown of womanhood was beauty and my curse, bore him who lieth on the ivory couch!

“The rightful heir, ye men of earth may speak, died at his birth; yet ye knew naught of this, so well my secret kept the favored slaves.

“He liveth yet again on ether planes—my son! Not her’s—the hated rival's—the queen ye knew who early passed. My son! The pomp and state, with knowledge, too, were mine as thine and in them gloated I. No less a king because, forsooth, the maid they chose for him—thy sire—was not thy dam.

“I was and am no slave. A 'trader' was my sire. One of that land ye speak of as a cloud, or mist, so far away it seems to you who journey not. And scorn ye, too, its people who, born to war, in time of stress take to them deadly moods and harbor hate, and so demand what thou dost deem a sin—the eye for eye and tooth for tooth—adown their line for centuries.

“He dieth!

“As the sun sinks!

“Low lies he!

“My son!

“The well beloved!

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“The son of him beloved in my youth and loving me till beauty fled. Farewell!”

Her chant was finished, sank she on the threshold. Passed her soul.

The secret, kept so well by them who, awe-struck heard, no seeming break in line occurred; and thus the prince born of the sinning line reigned long reigned well.

The sun had set ere called the gods the soul of him, the king, to realms of peace.

And double sorrow had the people all, and double mourning, for them, the battle slain, and for their reigning king. A monarch wise in much that wisdom gives to thought—a purpose for the betterment of people subject unto him. And kindly spake the nation as one voice:

"The son, now king, perchance will strive to reign with just humility, yet fail to reach the standard of his sire."

And thus it fell.

All day, I spake, the king did linger, but at eve the mists of deep oblivion left the sunken eye, and reaching out his arms as though to clasp he cried:

“’Tis won! I see them meet the foe!

“Tonight Earth's sun doth set for me indeed, but subjects spring around me on the ether planes where soul doth trend.

“My subjects sent in haste through stress of battle, yet I seek not alone the planes, but with fitting band, a king and subjects!”

Thus he spake and died.

The third in line was he. His sires brave and wise. His son no traitor to ancestral grasp of power.



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« Reply #32 on: December 15, 2008, 10:25:43 pm »

p. 165

CHAPTER XXIII
The destruction of Atlantis. Activities of the inhabitants on the morning the island sank into the ocean.

I thus explain the destruction of Atlantis—land of the beautiful, land of gold, of knowledge, of science, art, music; all that man beneath God perfecteth added to God's own work.

Aye, beauty of form as well, for died at birth the child who bore not the imprint of the higher model in perfect form, lacking naught that would please the eye of man, or god, they taught, for the people of that lost land worshipped as did we of Egypt.

But to the theme again I turn.

No curse weighted the atmosphere nor brought harmful conditions upon the land as hath been asserted. The unfixed condition of worlds at that early age caused the vast upheaval which destroyed the fairest spot the sun has shone upon in its rounds of aeons.

Law did not then as now exist, perfected through the patient ellipse of centuries, aye, aeons, that brought to one great focus the lines which denote a perfect balance of globes, descending at a certain ratio as they meet at one fixed point, to continue their round to other point, assigned through law which hath adjusted the motion of the moving bodies designated as Moon, Stars, Earth.

The law was not perfected which adjusts gravity and points to danger signals, known in nature by those so-called senseless objects and by them avoided.

p. 166

Not by the higher Intelligence are they guided, but by the intelligence of Law which all, so named, inanimate things possess.

We who create not globes cannot explain the inner working of this law, which regulates the revolvement and growth of bodies whose vastness strikes with awe the minds of men.

But we gather from effect what may be termed the "silent" mechanism of those wonders of the Divine and gathering a particle from one direct our attention to still others and, through patient study, the whole plan is borne upon the mind—that reflex of the higher Mind which needeth no toil to perfect that which hath grown from His own growth and is part of His Magnitude.

Thou shalt yet see with mortal eyes a spot of that vast Atlantis whose fairness lies beneath the waters.

So plainly marked shall be the spot on which once stood a temple dedicated to Ra, yet not so called by those wise scholars of the sunk land, that thou shalt not mistake the fragment which through the swing of the centuries and the sweep of the cycles hath defied Time and the roll of Eternity.

I bear in mind the day when first I peered with soul-eyes into the mysteries of that land from which came mine own fathers and their fathers for generations. The records tell not the date of their abandonment of that early home which has known devastation.

I first beheld the figure of a maiden clad in sacrificial robes kneeling at an altar, her face distorted by the death agony, the hands uplifted to the impotent god who scowled upon her body, reft of soul; and then mine eyes turned to the higher plane. The soul was there, all heedless of the form that knelt beneath the waves.

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And thus I saw them—maid and wife and child—the form—but useless cask which spilled the golden wine that means the breath of God.

THE DESTRUCTION OF ATLANTIS

The force of will is strong within, but elements do war, and speech from me to thee is difficult; yet thus I tell, as plainly as the powers permit, the history taught me by the lips of him, the ancestor of ten thousand years agone who marked the day of doom to that, his land.

Thou yet shalt see with eyes of flesh, and mind shall drink the wonders on the stone—the carven symbol of a mighty race.

Yea, day had dawned. Not by the Moon's pale ray or starlight's flutter went the land to rest beneath the water, but like wheel of blood the solar orb rose fully.

Just a span it seemed above the water when he who looked from highest point to mark the planet's course as he had been appointed, saw the light and muttered in his beard—a century grown: "God's doom is on us! But one God is there, though others swear that Ab-Dallah, Soam, Phenox, Ram and Ses have equal power with Him, but I say nay, for I have sought in Nature all the tongue that teacheth wisdom. But one God is there!

"And I forebode the doom that doth befall, for hither cometh on the 'wings of Ram' the water's mighty sledge of Death," and folding calmly to his breast the cross—prophetic symbol of his age and mind—he knelt and sought to pray.

Low down where city's walls were wave-kissed—for the ships to sail from, drift to, for the pleasure boat's advantage—rose the sound of noisy traffic.

Slave marts showed their wares—the young, the

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beautiful, the strong in war a prize, and greed and lust stood by agape and gold beladened.

And there the withered miser's trembling hand held close the casket where the gems were hid which he had destined for his monarch's eye, if so the monarch's Minister of State, but spake the word to weigh the grains of gold and barter for the jewels, water clear or green as spray in Springtime.

Great pearls had he hid in the casket lined with fleece, the finest from the shrub and tinted fair with henna. Pearls whose weight alone bore well the scales which held the hollow globe of jet, or snow or primrose dawn, whose worth meant ships, or palaces or the slave who would outweigh their weight a thousandfold.

Wares of gold and silver, stuffs from Tyre and Gom were spread on what the merchant knew would best display the gleam of golden thread and floss made by that insect horror in its shape doth show to timid ones.

Fair fruits lay basking in the fiery light the golden globe more golden for its ray; pomegranates took to them still a deeper blood, and blossoms turned from snow to rose, and showed red masses where the lilies blossomed pale.

Corn merchants spread their wares in porcelain tubs, or baskets woven of the golden reed or linen basquets.

Heaps of well-riped grain, crushed pulse or lentils, other grains had they, but those I know not as they stand enstamped in this, thy tongue, which is not all, mine own.

The unclad vendors of the ocean's gifts went crying through the arches of the place where flesh was bartered for the well-loved grains that lie with check of earth.

Their trays of brass, or yet of costlier stuff,

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heaped high with shells of broad and comely shape, or wriggling fins and scales agleam with hues that borrowed yet another color from the sun still rising—rising soon to look upon a scene of wild confusion, storm and death!

Strong men walked upright bearing "bricks" or stone to build, or yet rebuild, the costly piles that marked the beauty of the cities strewn like gems throughout the land whose day was set, though not complete its doom

The children—heart-beats of a nation—danced to task, or lesson or their play beneath the spreading palms or rose tree's fragrant shade, or vines hung purple with the globes of life-blood for the weak. The mothers to their tasks of rearing broods, or carefully preparing stuff to cover forms of symmetry. The priest lay in his temple, dead with wine, or knelt, as is the way of priest, before a gem-lit shrine to catch the eye of the kneeling, shrinking throng who caught a hint of doom.

Within the palaces the slaves bowed low as those advanced who held the power to quell, and costly "silk" and fleecy "lace" swept soft over paves of marble, and the fountains played soft measures; from the drops of water came a tinkling song as every drop did hold a certain tone, and all commingling made a rhythm sweet to ear.

For one had builded by the power of mind, an instrument which kings alone might buy, so costly was it; wove of gems and cords of that rare metal which I cannot name, for ye would never know its import or significance.

Yet, all entwined, made instrument which rivalled in its tone the song of birds, of thrushes in the woods, of lark at morn or bulbul when her mate doth hover nigh.

Thus all seemed peace and joy, with beauties’

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glow to give it emphasis, and made the morn to seem the opening to events of life. In the vast chambers where the men of mind had gathered, big with knowledge gleaned and rich in scrolls upborn by pampered slaves, the dignity of State was duly emphasized by the appearance of the ruling lord.

And as the music died that every morn bespake that duty followed melody of sound, a herald, old and trusted, trembling came: "My lords," he whispered, but the stillness reigned supreme and every ear had caught.

“My master of the Tower—one hundred years—a sign hath read in that vast wheel of blood, and bids ye seek the shrine of such a god as each doth trust, but thus he bade me speak:

“There is but One, and He today is wroth and crushes with His breath.

“It comes upon the water. Look ye well! A trembling of the waves, that dance and gleam, show but the quiver of the serpent form before it striketh. Look ye well, O lords!

“The stars last night shone with a baleful light, like eyes of lions caged and thirsting strong for blood; and in the mountains, pointing spear-wise, high, a muttered voice was speaking to the soul of him, so formed of fiber and of flesh are we that one doth tremble when the elements are wroth in unison with God.

“Look well, O lords, and cease to talk of good to land or to estate, for all shall pass as the mist of morn rolls upward, drunk by Sun—the essence of that Life which holdeth all.”

He ceased, and sank the hearts of them who never quailed in battle, or when death in milder form had faced them, but his voice was pregnant with the doom which he foretold, and each stood with heart throbbing dully, as the sea swells after storm when

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quiet seems to reign, but Death hath faced the world and still it thrills with that dread presence which ye name as finish to all deeds.

"Our dear ones!" Ah, that taint of self which all the world doth poison! Not his neighbor's grief, but grief of self he dare not face.

"My loved ones! At their peaceful sports they stray or duties for my pleasure and I stand! An atom on the wind is not more weak to aid!"

But one who doubted ever, cried aloud: "Smite him! He lieth! Old and hoar hath he grown lying! Smite the hind who crieth Death on this fair morn when all speaks life. We die not on this day! I swear it by the soul of Him who liveth—Him who holdeth—Him who Both appoint be what His name!"

But as he spake a wail of sorrow rose. A wail so loud it pierced the marble walls and caused them, strong as were the halls of Fate, to quiver at the mad, vibrating sound.

And as it ceased in measure all arose, with faces rivaling the marble walls and sought the court which led into the street, and where in wild confusion swept the throngs on through the darkling streets, for the sun, which shone as blood, had hid its face in clouds of deadly vapour, dense and black, and damp and steaming with a substance foul to breathe as floats the breath of "hell."

And flashes fierce as fiery serpents spun across the sky which but an hour before was like a dome of turquoise turned with beryl.

Close-clinging, clasping, crying each for each, some waited awe-struck, some did seek to pray, and others cursed and moaned and fell upon their fellows with the sword, and "Life for life" cried madly. "Now mine hour hath come, what matter how ye die!"

Thus mad and sane they mingled. Weak and

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strong. The pure, the vile, the greybeard and the child; while in the shelter of the house of wealth, or lowly cot, where when the day had dawned, was hope for yet another life to bless, lay mother's wailing in the hour of birth and adding wails of fear to wails of agony.

Then, like a monster spurning earth and seeking sky, there rose from out the bosom of the deep a something which no man had given name.

Uprearing as the wild steed flies the ground when blast of danger smiteth on his ear, then with the voice of thunder multiplied it burst the bonds of shape and nature's law of law restraint and fell upon the land.

A wall of water as the mountain tall! Black, shrieking beings! Shapes from depths of sea, and wrecks that long had mouldered in their graves of ocean slime, and rocks from depths where rocks long buried lay; and all swept on unheeded and the cities fair that kissed the borders of a smiling sea went down.

Yet higher, where the pointed mountain sides smiled green and fruitful, some had lingered still with horror on their faces, for where the land had blossomed like the rose, and fane and palace, mart and builded wall, and forests vast had stood, when the sun went down was but a swirl of foam, of writhing, hungry waves that seeming mounted upwards, upwards fast ascending to the eye.

Yet those few pictured "When the water fell," the death-struck valleys, ruined walls and towers and forests, lacking naught save leaves of green. Alas, the dream that had no end! their hope bore no fruition.

The quivering mountain sank—an inch, the measure of a man's broad palm—a fathom! Then

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a quiver and a roar marked moment when the land that mocked the sun went down!

Atlantis, thou hast sunk, but shall arise, a slimy thing of Ocean, still to bear much beauty, offering riches to the world which hath not known thy fate.

 

 

 
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BlueHue
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il mio va Piano, sono Asino ?


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« Reply #33 on: December 27, 2008, 08:15:42 am »

Sometimes mystery novel writers used more than one aliases

This scenario looks like another Episode of Buster Crabb in the 25-th Century or Flash Gordon on Monroe-Planet

The real 'Atlantis" was called ATHETA or Ad- Land( Koran Surat nr 89 tells all about the TSUNAMI at ADEN. dd 855 bc.)THANK  YOU for posting this" Atlantis-' litterature' Grin
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( Blue's)THEORY, locating"original" Atlantis( in Aden-Yemen.)
1: ATLANTIS =Fake=Latin name, original Greek: ATHE(=a Region in Aden)
2: Atlantic-OCEAN=Greek: RIVER-of-Atlas+also" Known "World-OCEAN(=Red-Sea)
3: Greek-obsolete-Numeral 'X' caused Plato's Atlantisdate:9000=900
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