large/9571/a_dreamers_tales_dm_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/dreamerstales_04_dunsany_64kb_31
large/9571/a_dreamers_tales_dm_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/dreamerstales_04_dunsany_64kb
English
9571
Once a great storm rode up, even as far as London, out of the sea from the South; and he came curving into the river with the fierce East wind. And he was mightier than the dreary tides, and went with great leaps over the listless mud. ONCE A GREAT STORM RODE UP EVEN AS FAR AS LONDON OUT OF THE SEA FROM THE SOUTH AND HE CAME CURVING INTO THE RIVER WITH A FIERCE EAST WIND AND HE WAS MIGHTIER THAN THE DREARY TIDES AND WENT WITH GREAT LEAPS OVER THE LISTLESS MUD
, came and dug them up and carried them back again to the hole in the mud. And then one day the last of those men died who once had done to me this terrible thing. I heard his soul go over the river at sunset. And again I hoped. A few weeks afterwards I was found once more, and once more taken out of that restless place and given deep burial in sacred ground, where my soul hoped that it should rest. Almost at once men came with cloaks and tapers to give me back to the mud, for the thing had become a tradition and a rite. And all the forsaken things mocked me in their dumb hearts when they saw me carried back, for they were jealous of me because I had left the mud. It must be remembered that I could not weep. And the years went by seawards where the black barges go, and the great derelict centuries became lost at sea, and still I lay there without any cause to hope, and daring not to hope without a cause, because of the terrible envy and the anger of the things that could drift no more.  AS SOON AS NIGHT FELL CAME AND DUG THEM UP AND CARRIED THEM BACK AGAIN TO THE HOLE IN THE MUD AND THEN ONE DAY THE LAST OF THOSE MEN DIED WHO ONCE HAD DONE TO ME THIS TERRIBLE THING I HEARD HIS SOUL GO OVER THE RIVER AT SUNSET AND AGAIN I HOPED A FEW WEEKS AFTERWARDS I WAS FOUND ONCE MORE AND ONCE MORE TAKEN OUT OF THAT RESTLESS PLACE AND GIVEN DEEP BURIAL IN SACRED GROUND WHERE MY SOUL HOPED THAT IT SHOULD REST ALMOST AT ONCE MEN CAME WITH CLOAKS AND TAPERS TO GIVE ME BACK TO THE MUD FOR THE THING HAD BECOME A TRADITION AND A RITE AND ALL THE FORSAKEN THINGS MOCKED ME IN THEIR DUMB HEARTS WHEN THEY SAW ME CARRIED BACK FOR THEY WERE JEALOUS OF ME BECAUSE I HAD LEFT THE MUD IT MUST BE REMEMBERED THAT I COULD NOT WEEP AND THE YEARS WENT BY SEAWARDS WHERE THE BLACK BARGES GO AND THE GREAT DERELICT CENTURIES BECAME LOST AT SEA AND STILL I LAY THERE WITHOUT ANY CAUSE TO HOPE AND DARING NOT TO HOPE WITHOUT A CAUSE BECAUSE OF THE TERRIBLE ENVY AND ANGER OF THE THINGS THAT COULD DRIFT NO MORE
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