Mardi, and a voyage thither, Vol. 2 (of 2)Melville, Herman
Philosophy
Mardi, and a voyage thither, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Melville, Herman
Adventure stories; Polynesia -- Description and travel -- Fiction
“Are you publishing some decamped burglar,” said Media, “that you speak
thus of my royal friend, the lord Abrazza? Go on, sir! and say he
reigns sole king of Bonovona!”
“My lord, I had not ended. Abrazza, Yoomy, is a fine and florid king:
high-fed, and affluent of heart; of speech, mellifluent. And for a
royalty extremely amiable. He is a sceptered gentleman, who does much
good. Kind king! in person he gives orders for relieving those, who
daily dive for pearls, to grace his royal robe; and gasping hard, with
blood-shot eyes, come up from shark-infested depths, and fainting, lay
their treasure at his feet. Sweet lord Abrazza! how he pities those,
who in his furthest woodlands day-long toil to do his bidding. Yet
king-philosopher, he never weeps; but pities with a placid smile; and
that but seldom.”
“There seems much iron in your blood,” said Media. “But say your say.”
“Say I not truth, my lord? Abrazza, I admire. Save his royal pity all
else is jocund round him. He loves to live for life’s own sake. He vows
he’ll have no cares; and often says, in pleasant reveries,— ‘Sure, my
lord Abrazza, if any one should be care-free, ’tis thou; who strike
down none, but pity all the fallen!’ Yet none he lifteth up.”
At length we gained the sunny side, and shoreward tended. Vee-Vee’s
horn was sonorous; and issuing from his golden groves, my lord Abrazza,
like a host that greets you on the threshold, met us, as we keeled the
beach.
“Welcome! fellow demi-god, and king! Media, my pleasant guest!”
His servitors salamed; his chieftains bowed; his yeoman-guard, in
meadow-green, presented palm-stalks,—royal tokens; and hand in hand,
the nodding, jovial, regal friends, went up a lane of salutations;
dragging behind, a train of envyings.
Much we marked Abrazza’s jeweled crown; that shot no honest blaze of
ruddy rubies; nor looked stern-white like Media’s pearls; but cast a
green and yellow glare; rays from emeralds, crossing rays from many a
topaz. In those beams, so sinister, all present looked cadaverous:
Abrazza’s cheek alone beamed bright, but hectic.
Upon its fragrant mats a spacious hall received the kings; and
gathering courtiers blandly bowed; and gushing with soft flatteries,
breathed idol-incense round them.
The hall was terraced thrice; its elevated end was curtained; and
thence, at every chime of words, there burst a girl, gay scarfed, with
naked bosom, and poured forth wild and hollow laughter, as she raced
down all the terraces, and passed their merry kingships.
Wide round the hall, in avenues, waved almond-woods; their whiteness
frosted into bloom. But every vine-clad trunk was hollow-hearted;
hollow sounds came from the grottos: hollow broke the billows on the
shore: and hollow pauses filled the air, following the hollow laughter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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