large/10244/unhappy_far-off_things_1701_librivox_64kb_mp3/unhappyfaroffthings_10_dunsany_64kb_1
large/10244/unhappy_far-off_things_1701_librivox_64kb_mp3/unhappyfaroffthings_10_dunsany_64kb
English
10244
The shadows of crocodiles and antique gods flicker on walls and ceiling from a gusty flame as he writes; and in the end he writes the spell out wrongly and mixes up with the valleys where he would rest dark bits of the regions of Hell. THE SHADOWS OF CROCODILES AND ANTIQUE GODS FLICKER ON WALLS AND CEILING FROM A GUSTY FLAME AS HE WRITES AND IN THE END HE WRITES THE SPELL OUT WRONGLY AND MIXES UP WITH THE VALLEYS WHERE HE WOULD REST DARK BITS OF THE REGIONS OF HELL
 some trivial song or cry of his native city. A Happy Valley "The enemy attacked the Happy Valley." I read these words in a paper at the time of the taking of Albert, for the second time, by our troops. And the words brought back Albert to me like a spell, Albert at the end of the mighty Bapaume-Albert road, that pathway Of Mars down which he had stalked so tremendously through his garden, the wide waste battlefields of the Somme. The words brought back Albert at the end of that road in the sunset and the cathedral seen against the west, and the gilded Virgin half cast down, but incapable of losing dignity, and evening coming down over the marshes. They brought it back like a spell. Like two spells rather, that some magician had mixed. Picture some magician of old in his sombre wonderful, chamber wishing dreams to transport him far off to delectable valleys. He sits him down and writes out a spell on parchment, slowly and with effort of aged memory, though he remembered it easily once. ORDING BY BETTY B UNHAPPY FAR OFF THINGS BY LORD DUNSTANY PART TEN A HAPPY VALLEY THE ENEMY ATTACKED THE HAPPY VALLEY I READ THESE WORDS IN A PAPER AT THE TIME OF THE TAKING OF ALBERT FOR THE SECOND TIME BY OUR TROOPS AND THE WORDS BROUGHT BACK ALBERT TO ME LIKE A SPELL ALBERT AT THE END OF THE MIGHTY BAK HOME ALBERT RODE THAT PATHWAY OF MARS DOWN WHICH HE HAD STALKED SO TREMENDOUSLY THROUGH HIS GARDEN THE WIDE WASTE BATTLEFIELDS OF THE SONG THE WORDS BROUGHT BACK ALBERT AT THE END OF THAT ROAD IN THE SUNSET AND THE CATHEDRAL SEEN AGAINST THE WEST AND THE GILDED VIRGIN HALF CAST DOWN BUT INCAPABLE OF LOSING DIGNITY AND EVENING COMING DOWN OVER THE MARSHES THEY BROUGHT IT BACK LIKE A SPELL LIKE TWO SPELLS RATHER THAT SOME MAGICIAN HAD MIXED PICTURES SOME MAGICIAN OF OLD IN HIS SOMBRE WONDERFUL CHAMBER WISHING DREAMS TO TRANSPORT HIM FAR OFF TO DELECTABLE VALLEYS HE SITS HIM DOWN AND WRITES OUT A SPELL ON PARCHMENT SLOWLY AND WITH EFFORT OF AGED MEMORY THOUGH HE REMEMBERED IT EASILY ONCE
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