large/803/time_and_gods_librivox_64kb_mp3/timeandthegods_16_dunsany_64kb_54
large/803/time_and_gods_librivox_64kb_mp3/timeandthegods_16_dunsany_64kb
English
803
But when the other prophets heard with what doleful words the King spake in the Hall they all cried out: "It is not as Ulf has said but as I have said—and I." Then the King pondered long, not speaking. But down in the city in a street between the houses stood grouped together they that were wont to dance before the King, and they that had borne his wine in jewelled cups. BUT WHEN THE OTHER PROPHETS HEARD WITH WHAT DOLEFUL WORDS THE KING SPAKE IN THE HALL THEY ALL CRIED OUT IT IS NOT AS ULF HAS SAID BUT AS I HAVE SAID AND I THEN THE KING PONDERED LONG NOT SPEAKING BUT DOWN IN THE CITY IN A STREET BETWEEN THE HOUSES STOOD GROUPED TOGETHER THEY THAT WERE WONT TO DANCE BEFORE THE KING AND THEY THAT HAD BORNE HIS WINE AND JEWELLED CUPS
ildhood’s gods and fashion silver bells and, setting them mostly a-swing amidst such trees as grew in the garden of my childhood, sing you this dirge in the dusk: and sing it when the low moth flies up and down and the bat first comes peering from her home, sing it when white mists come rising from the river, when smoke is pale and grey, while flowers are yet closing, ere voices are yet hushed, sing it while all things yet lament the day, or ever the great lights of heaven come blazing forth and night with her splendours takes the place of day. For, if the old gods die, let us lament Them or ever new knowledge comes, while all the world still shudders at Their loss. “For at the last, O prophet, what is left? Only the gods of my childhood dead, and only Time striding large and lonely through the spaces, chilling the moon and paling the light of stars and scattering earthward out of both his hands the dust of forgetfulness over the fields of heroes and smitten Temples of the older gods.” U A GREAT DIRGE FOR MY CHILDHOOD'S GODS AND FASHION SILVER BELLS AND SETTING THEM MOSTLY A SWING AMIDST SUCH TREES AS GREW IN THE GARDEN OF MY CHILDHOOD SING YOU THIS DIRGE IN THE DUSK AND SING IT WHEN THE LOW MOTH FLIES UP AND DOWN AND THE BAT FIRST COMES PEERING FROM HER HOME SING IT WHEN WHITE MISTS COME RISING FROM THE RIVER WHEN SMOKE IS PALE AND GREY WHILE FLOWERS ARE YET CLOSING YOUR VOICES ARE YET HUSHED SING IT WHILE ALL THINGS YET LAMENT THE DAY OR EVER THE GREAT LIGHTS OF HEAVEN COME BLAZING FORTH AND NIGHT WITH HER SPLENDOURS TAKES THE PLACE OF DAY FOR IF THE OLD GODS DIE LET US LAMENT THEM OR EVER NEW KNOWLEDGE COMES WHILE ALL THE WORLD STILL SHUDDERS AT THEIR LOSS FOR AT THE LAST O PROPHET WHAT IS LEFT ONLY THE GODS OF MY CHILDHOOD DEAD ONLY TIME STRIDING LARGE AND LONELY THROUGH THE SPACES CHILLING THE MOON AND PALING THE LIGHT OF STARS AND SCATTERING EARTHWARD OUT OF BOTH HIS HANDS THE DUST OF FORGETFULNESS OVER THE FIELDS OF HEROES AND SMITTEN TEMPLES OF THE OLDER GODS
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