large/9571/a_dreamers_tales_dm_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/dreamerstales_14_dunsany_64kb_18
large/9571/a_dreamers_tales_dm_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/dreamerstales_14_dunsany_64kb
English
9571
When the hills called I used to go to them by road, riding a bicycle. If you go by train you miss the gradual approach, you do not cast off London like an old forgiven sin, nor pass by little villages on the way that must have some rumour of the hills; nor, wondering if they are still the same, come at last upon the edge of their far spread robes, and so on to their feet, and see far off their holy, welcoming faces. WHEN THE HILLS CALLED I USED TO GO TO THEM BY ROAD RIDING A BICYCLE IF YOU GO BY TRAIN YOU MISS THE GRADUAL APPROACH YOU DO NOT CAST OFF LONDON LIKE AN OLD FORGIVEN SIN NOR PASS BY LITTLE VILLAGES ON THE WAY THAT MUST HAVE SOME RUMOR OF THE HILLS NOR WONDERING IF THEY ARE STILL THE SAME COME AT LAST UPON THE EDGE OF THEIR FAR SPREAD ROBES AND SO ON TO THEIR FEET AND SEE FAR OFF THEIR WHOLLY WELCOMING FACES
he twilight like to some heavenly choir arising rank on rank to call a drunkard from his gambling-hell. No volume of traffic can drown the sound of it, no lure of London can weaken its appeal. Having heard it one's fancy is gone, and evermore departed, to some coloured pebble agleam in a rural brook, and all that London can offer is swept from one's mind like some suddenly smitten metropolitan Goliath. The call is from afar both in leagues and years, for the hills that call one are the hills that were, and their voices are the voices of long ago, when the elf-kings still had horns. I see them now, those hills of my infancy (for it is they that call), with their faces upturned to the purple twilight, and the faint diaphanous figures of the fairies peering out from under the bracken to see if evening is come. I do not see upon their regal summits those desirable mansions, and highly desirable residences, which have lately been built for gentlemen who would exchange customers for tenants. D BEHIND UPLAND IN THE TWILIGHT LIKE TO SOME HEAVENLY CHOIR ARISING RANK ON RANK TO CALL A DRUNKARD FROM HIS GAMBLING HELL NO VOLUME OF TRAFFIC CAN DROWN THE SOUND OF IT NO LURE OF LONDON CAN WEAKEN ITS APPEAL HAVING HEARD IT ONE'S FANCY IS GONE AND EVERMORE DEPARTED TO SOME COLOURED PEBBLE AGLEAM IN A RURAL BROOK AND ALL THAT LONDON CAN OFFER IS SWEPT FROM ONE'S MIND LIKE SOME SUDDENLY SMITTEN METROPOLITAN GOLIATH THE CALL IS FROM AFAR BOTH IN LEAGUES AND YEARS FOR THE HILLS THAT CALL ONE ARE THE HILLS THAT WERE AND THEIR VOICES ARE THE VOICES OF LONG AGO WHEN THE ELF KINGS STILL HAD HORNS I SEE THEM NOW THOSE HILLS OF MY INFANCY FOR IT IS THEY THAT CALL WITH THEIR FACES UPTURNED TO THE PURPLE TWILIGHT AND THE FAINT DIAPHANOUS FIGURES OF THE FAIRIES PEERING OUT FROM UNDER THE BRACKEN TO SEE IF EVENING IS COME I DO NOT SEE UPON THEIR REGAL SUMMITS THOSE DESIRABLE MANSIONS AND HIGHLY DESIRABLE RESIDENCES WHICH HAVE LATELY BEEN BUILT FOR GENTLEMEN WHO WOULD EXCHANGE CUSTOMERS FOR TENANTS
large/9571/a_dreamers_tales_dm_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/dreamerstales_14_dunsany_64kb
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