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The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Dreamer's
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Title: A Dreamer's Tales

Author: Lord Dunsany

Illustrator: Sidney Herbert Sime

Release date: June 5, 2018 [eBook #57277]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DREAMER'S

TALES ***
A Dreamer’s Tales

WE WOULD GALLOP
THROUGH AFRICA
A Dreamer’s Tales

BY
Lord Dunsany
With Illustrations by
S. H. SIME

BOSTON
JOHN W. LUCE & COMPANY
 Preface

I hope for this book that it may come into the hands of those that
were kind to my others and that it may not disappoint them.

To the Editor of the Saturday Review my thanks are due for

permission to republish here those of the following tales which have
appeared in his columns, and, more than that, for the opportunity
afforded me by his review of reaching a wider public than my books
have attained to yet.
 Contents

PAGE

Poltarnees, Beholder of Ocean 1

Blagdaross 23

The Madness of Andelsprutz 32

Where the Tides Ebb and Flow 40

Bethmoora 50

Idle Days on the Yann 59

The Sword and the Idol 93

The Idle City 105

The Hashish Man 116

Poor Old Bill 127

The Beggars 138

Carcassonne 144
In Zaccarath 168

The Field 175

The Day of the Poll 182

The Unhappy Body 188

 List of Illustrations

We Would Gallop Through Africa Frontispiece

Romance Comes Down Out of Hilly To face 4

Woodlands page

The Soul of Andelsprutz ““ 34

The Terrible Mud ““ 42

Bird of the River ““ 60

The Gate of Yann ““ 90

The Silence of Ged ““ 108

Thuba Mleen ““ 122

Little Cottages ... Whose Looks We Did Not ““ 128

Like
Poltarnees,
Beholder of Ocean

oldees, Mondath, Arizim, these are the Inner Lands, the

lands whose sentinels upon their borders do not behold
the sea. Beyond them to the east there lies a desert, for
ever untroubled by man: all yellow it is, and spotted with
shadows of stones, and Death is in it, like a leopard lying
in the sun. To the south they are bounded by magic, to the west by a
mountain, and to the north by the voice and anger of the Polar wind.
Like a great wall is the mountain to the west. It comes up out of the
distance and goes down into the distance again, and it is named
Poltarnees, Beholder of Ocean. To the northward red rocks, smooth
and bare of soil, and without any speck of moss or herbage, slope up
to the very lips of the Polar wind, and there is nothing else there but
the noise of his anger. Very peaceful are the Inner Lands, and very
fair are their cities, and there is no war among them, but quiet and
ease. And they have no enemy but age, for thirst and fever lie
sunning themselves out in the mid-desert, and never prowl into the
Inner Lands. And the ghouls and ghosts, whose highway is the night,
are kept in the south by the boundary of magic. And very small are
all their pleasant cities, and all men are known to one another
therein, and bless one another by name as they meet in the streets.
And they have a broad, green way in every city that comes in out of
some vale or wood or downland, and wanders in and out about the
city between the houses and across the streets; and the people walk
along it never at all, but every year at her appointed time Spring
walks along it from the flowery lands, causing the anemone to bloom
on the green way and all the early joys of hidden woods, or deep,
secluded vales, or triumphant downlands, whose heads lift up so
proudly, far up aloof from cities.
Sometimes waggoners or shepherds walk along this way, they that
have come into the city from over cloudy ridges, and the townsmen
hinder them not, for there is a tread that troubleth the grass and a
tread that troubleth it not, and each man in his own heart knoweth
which tread he hath. And in the sunlit spaces of the weald and in the
wold’s dark places, afar from the music of cities and from the dance
of the cities afar, they make there the music of the country places and
dance the country dance. Amiable, near and friendly appears to these
men the sun, and as he is genial to them and tends their younger
vines, so they are kind to the little woodland things and any rumour
of the fairies or old legend. And when the light of some little distant
city makes a slight flush upon the edge of the sky, and the happy
golden windows of the homesteads stare gleaming into the dark, then
the old and holy figure of Romance, cloaked even to the face, comes
down out of hilly woodlands and bids dark shadows to rise and
dance, and sends the forest creatures forth to prowl, and lights in a
moment in her bower of grass the little glowworm’s lamp, and brings
a hush down over the grey lands, and out of it rises faintly on far-off
hills the voice of a lute. There are not in the world lands more
prosperous and happy than Toldees, Mondath, Arizim.
From these three little kingdoms that are named the Inner Lands the
young men stole constantly away. One by one they went, and no one
knew why they went save that they had a longing to behold the Sea.
Of this longing they spoke little, but a young man would become
silent for a few days, and then, one morning very early, he would slip
away and slowly climb Poltarnees’s difficult slope, and having
attained the top pass over and never return. A few stayed behind in
the Inner Lands and became old men, but none that had ever
climbed Poltarnees from the very earliest times had ever come back
again. Many had gone up Poltarnees sworn to return. Once a king
sent all his courtiers, one by one, to report the mystery to him, and
then went himself; none ever returned.
 ROMANCE COMES
DOWN OUT OF HILLY
WOODLANDS

Now, it was the wont of the folk of the Inner Lands to worship
rumours and legends of the Sea, and all that their prophets
discovered of the Sea was writ in a sacred book, and with deep
devotion on days of festival or mourning read in the temples by the
priests. Now, all their temples lay open to the west, resting upon
pillars, that the breeze from the Sea might enter them, and they lay
open on pillars to the east that the breezes of the Sea might not be
hindered but pass onward wherever the Sea list. And this is the
legend that they had of the Sea, whom none in the Inner Lands had
ever beholden. They say that the Sea is a river heading towards
Hercules, and they say that he touches against the edge of the world,
and that Poltarnees looks upon him. They say that all the worlds of
heaven go bobbing on this river and are swept down with the stream,
and that Infinity is thick and furry with forests through which the
river in his course sweeps on with all the worlds of heaven. Among
the colossal trunks of those dark trees, the smallest fronds of whose
branches are many nights, there walk the gods. And whenever its
thirst, glowing in space like a great sun, comes upon the beast, the
tiger of the gods creeps down to the river to drink. And the tiger of
the gods drinks his fill loudly, whelming worlds the while, and the
level of the river sinks between its banks ere the beast’s thirst is
quenched and ceases to glow like a sun. And many worlds thereby
are heaped up dry and stranded, and the gods walk not among them
evermore, because they are hard to their feet. These are the worlds
that have no destiny, whose people know no god. And the river
sweeps onwards ever. And the name of the river is Oriathon, but men
call it Ocean. This is the Lower Faith of the Inner Lands. And there is
a Higher Faith which is not told to all. According to the Higher Faith
of the Inner Lands the river Oriathon sweeps on through the forests
of Infinity and all at once falls roaring over an Edge, whence Time
has long ago recalled his hours to fight in his war with the gods; and
falls unlit by the flash of nights and days, with his flood unmeasured
by miles, into the deeps of nothing.
Now as the centuries went by and the one way by which a man could
climb Poltarnees became worn with feet, more and more men
surmounted it, not to return. And still they knew not in the Inner
Lands upon what mystery Poltarnees looked. For on a still day and
windless, while men walked happily about their beautiful streets or
tended flocks in the country, suddenly the west wind would bestir
himself and come in from the Sea. And he would come cloaked and
grey and mournful and carry to someone the hungry cry of the Sea
calling out for bones of men. And he that heard it would move
restlessly for some hours, and at last would rise suddenly, irresistibly
up, setting his face to Poltarnees, and would say, as is the custom of
those lands when men part briefly, “Till a man’s heart remembereth,”
which means “Farewell for a while;” but those that loved him, seeing
his eyes on Poltarnees, would answer sadly, “Till the gods forget,”
which means “Farewell.”
Now the King of Arizim had a daughter who played with the wild
wood flowers, and with the fountains in her father’s court, and with
the little blue heaven-birds that came to her doorway in the winter to
shelter from the snow. And she was more beautiful than the wild
wood flowers, or than all the fountains in her father’s court, or than
the blue heaven-birds in their full winter plumage when they shelter
from the snow. The old wise kings of Mondath and of Toldees saw
her once as she went lightly down the little paths of her garden, and,
turning their gaze into the mists of thought, pondered the destiny of
their Inner Lands. And they watched her closely by the stately
flowers, and standing alone in the sunlight, and passing and
repassing the strutting purple birds that the king’s fowlers had
brought from Asagéhon. When she was of the age of fifteen years the
King of Mondath called a council of kings. And there met with him
the kings of Toldees and Arizim. And the King of Mondath in his
Council said:
“The call of the unappeased and hungry Sea (and at the word ‘Sea’
the three kings bowed their heads) lures every year out of our happy
kingdoms more and more of our men, and still we know not the
mystery of the Sea, and no devised oath has brought one man back.
Now thy daughter, Arizim, is lovelier than the sunlight, and lovelier
than those stately flowers of thine that stand so tall in her garden,
and hath more grace and beauty than those strange birds that the
venturous fowlers bring in creaking waggons out of Asagéhon, whose
feathers are alternate purple and white. Now, he that shall love thy
daughter, Hilnaric, whoever he shall be, is the man to climb
Poltarnees and return, as none hath ever before, and tell us upon
what Poltarnees looks; for it may be that thy daughter is more
beautiful than the Sea.”
Then from his Seat of Council arose the King of Arizim. He said: “I
fear that thou hast spoken blasphemy against the Sea, and I have a
dread that ill will come of it. Indeed I had not thought she was so
fair. It is such a short while ago that she was quite a small child with
her hair still unkempt and not yet attired in the manner of
princesses, and she would go up into the wild woods unattended and
come back with her robes unseemly and all torn, and would not take
reproof with humble spirit, but made grimaces even in my marble
court all set about with fountains.”
Then said the King of Toldees:
“Let us watch more closely and let us see the Princess Hilnaric in the
season of the orchard-bloom when the great birds go by that know
the Sea, to rest in our inland places; and if she be more beautiful
than the sunrise over our folded kingdoms when all the orchards
bloom, it may be that she is more beautiful than the Sea.”
And the King of Arizim said:
“I fear this is terrible blasphemy, yet will I do as you have decided in
council.”
And the season of the orchard-bloom appeared. One night the King
of Arizim called his daughter forth on to his outer balcony of marble.
And the moon was rising huge and round and holy over dark woods,
and all the fountains were singing to the night. And the moon
touched the marble palace gables, and they glowed in the land. And
the moon touched the heads of all the fountains, and the grey
columns broke into fairy lights. And the moon left the dark ways of
the forest and lit the whole white palace and its fountains and shone
on the forehead of the Princess, and the palace of Arizim glowed afar,
and the fountains became columns of gleaming jewels and song. And
the moon made a music at his rising, but it fell a little short of mortal
ears. And Hilnaric stood there wondering, clad in white, with the
moonlight shining on her forehead; and watching her from the
shadows on the terrace stood the kings of Mondath and Toldees.
They said:
“She is more beautiful than the moonrise.”
And on another day the King of Arizim bade his daughter forth at
dawn, and they stood again upon the balcony. And the sun came up
over a world of orchards, and the sea-mists went back over
Poltarnees to the Sea; little wild voices arose in all the thickets, the
voices of the fountains began to die, and the song arose, in all the
marble temples, of the birds that are sacred to the Sea. And Hilnaric
stood there, still glowing with dreams of heaven.
“She is more beautiful,” said the kings, “than morning.”
Yet one more trial they made of Hilnaric’s beauty, for they watched
her on the terraces at sunset ere yet the petals of the orchards had
fallen, and all along the edge of neighbouring woods the
rhododendron was blooming with the azalea. And the sun went down
under craggy Poltarnees, and the sea-mist poured over his summit
inland. And the marble temples stood up clear in the evening, but
films of twilight were drawn between the mountain and the city.
Then from the Temple ledges and eaves of palaces the bats fell
headlong downwards, then spread their wings and floated up and
down through darkening ways; lights came blinking out in golden
windows, men cloaked themselves against the grey sea-mist, the
sound of small songs arose, and the face of Hilnaric became a
resting-place for mysteries and dreams.
“Than all these things,” said the kings, “she is more lovely: but who
can say whether she is lovelier than the Sea?”
Prone in a rhododendron thicket at the edge of the palace lawns a
hunter had waited since the sun went down. Near to him was a deep
pool where the hyacinths grew and strange flowers floated upon it
with broad leaves, and there the great bull gariachs came down to
drink by starlight, and, waiting there for the gariachs to come, he saw
the white form of the Princess leaning on her balcony. Before the
stars shone out or the bulls came down to drink he left his lurking
place and moved closer to the palace to see more nearly the Princess.
The palace lawns were full of untrodden dew, and everything was
still when he came across them, holding his great spear. In the
farthest corner of the terraces the three old kings were discussing the
beauty of Hilnaric and the destiny of the Inner Lands. Moving
lightly, with a hunter’s tread, the watcher by the pool came very near,
even in the still evening, before the Princess saw him. When he saw
her closely he exclaimed suddenly:
“She must be more beautiful than the Sea.”
When the Princess turned and saw his garb and his great spear she
knew that he was a hunter of gariachs.
When the three kings heard the young man exclaim they said softly
to one another:
“This must be the man.”
Then they revealed themselves to him, and spoke to him to try him.
They said:
“Sir, you have spoken blasphemy against the Sea.”
And the young man muttered:
“She is more beautiful than the Sea.”
And the kings said:
“We are older than you and wiser, and know that nothing is more
beautiful than the Sea.”
And the young man took off the gear of his head, and became
downcast, and knew that he spake with kings, yet he answered:
“By this spear, she is more beautiful than the Sea.”
And all the while the Princess stared at him, knowing him to be a
hunter of gariachs.
Then the King of Arizim said to the watcher by the pool:
“If thou wilt go up Poltarnees and come back, as none have come,
and report to us what lure or magic is in the Sea, we will pardon thy
blasphemy, and thou shalt have the Princess to wife and sit among
the Council of the Kings.”
And gladly thereunto the young man consented. And the Princess
spoke to him, and asked him his name. And he told her that his name
was Athelvok, and great joy arose in him at the sound of her voice.
And to the three kings he promised to set out on the third day to
scale the slope of Poltarnees and to return again, and this was the
oath by which they bound him to return:
“I swear by the Sea that bears the worlds away, by the river of
Oriathon, which men call Ocean, and by the gods and their tiger, and
by the doom of the worlds, that I will return again to the Inner
Lands, having beheld the Sea.”
And that oath he swore with solemnity that very night in one of the
temples of the Sea, but the three kings trusted more to the beauty of
Hilnaric even than to the power of the oath.
The next day Athelvok came to the palace of Arizim with the
morning, over the fields to the East and out of the country of
Toldees, and Hilnaric came out along her balcony and met him on
the terraces. And she asked him if he had ever slain a gariach, and he
said that he had slain three, and then he told her how he had killed
his first down by the pool in the wood. For he had taken his father’s
spear and gone down to the edge of the pool, and had lain under the
azaleas there waiting for the stars to shine, by whose first light the
gariachs go to the pools to drink; and he had gone too early and had
had long to wait, and the passing hours seemed longer than they
were. And all the birds came in that home at night, and the bat was
abroad, and the hour of the duck went by, and still no gariach came
down to the pool; and Athelvok felt sure that none would come. And
just as this grew to a certainty in his mind the thicket parted
noiselessly and a huge bull gariach stood facing him on the edge of
the water, and his great horns swept out sideways from his head, and
at the ends curved upwards, and were four strides in width from tip
to tip. And he had not seen Athelvok, for the great bull was on the far
side of the little pool, and Athelvok could not creep round to him for
fear of meeting the wind (for the gariachs, who can see little in the
dark forests, rely on hearing and smell). But he devised swiftly in his
mind while the bull stood there with head erect just twenty strides
from him across the water. And the bull sniffed the wind cautiously
and listened, then lowered its great head down to the pool and drank.
At that instant Athelvok leapt into the water and shot forward
through its weedy depths among the stems of the strange flowers
that floated upon broad leaves on the surface. And Athelvok kept his
spear out straight before him, and the fingers of his left hand he held
rigid and straight, not pointing upwards, and so did not come to the
surface, but was carried onward by the strength of his spring and
passed unentangled through the stems of the flowers. When
Athelvok jumped into the water the bull must have thrown his head
up, startled at the splash, then he would have listened and have
sniffed the air, and neither hearing nor scenting any danger he must
have remained rigid for some moments, for it was in that attitude
that Athelvok found him as he emerged breathless at his feet. And,
striking at once, Athelvok drove the spear into his throat before the
head and the terrible horns came down. But Athelvok had clung to
one of the great horns, and had been carried at terrible speed
through the rhododendron bushes until the gariach fell, but rose at
once again, and died standing up, still struggling, drowned in its own
blood.
But to Hilnaric listening it was as though one of the heroes of old
time had come back again in the full glory of his legendary youth.
And long time they went up and down the terraces, saying those
things which were said before and since, and which lips shall yet be
made to say again. And above them stood Poltarnees beholding the
Sea.
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