Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and WomenMacDonald, George
Science
Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women
MacDonald, George
Fantasy fiction
great brute, like a wolf, but twice the size, and tumbled me headlong
with itself, down the steps of the throne. As we fell, however, I
caught it by the throat, and the moment we reached the platform, a
struggle commenced, in which I soon got uppermost, with my hand upon
its throat, and knee upon its heart. But now arose a wild cry of wrath
and revenge and rescue. A universal hiss of steel, as every sword was
swept from its scabbard, seemed to tear the very air in shreds. I heard
the rush of hundreds towards the platform on which I knelt. I only
tightened my grasp of the brute’s throat. His eyes were already
starting from his head, and his tongue was hanging out. My anxious hope
was, that, even after they had killed me, they would be unable to undo
my gripe of his throat, before the monster was past breathing. I
therefore threw all my will, and force, and purpose, into the grasping
hand. I remember no blow. A faintness came over me, and my
consciousness departed.
CHAPTER XXIV
“We are ne’er like angels till our passions die.”
DECKAR.
“This wretched _Inn_, where we scarce stay to bait,
We call our _Dwelling-Place_:
We call one _Step a Race_:
But angels in their full enlightened state,
Angels, who _Live_, and know what ‘tis to _Be_,
Who all the nonsense of our language see,
Who speak _things_, and our _words_, their ill-drawn _pictures_, scorn,
When we, by a foolish figure, say,
_Behold an old man dead!_ then they
Speak properly, and cry, _Behold a man-child born!_”
COWLEY.
I was dead, and right content. I lay in my coffin, with my hands folded
in peace. The knight, and the lady I loved, wept over me.
Her tears fell on my face.
“Ah!” said the knight, “I rushed amongst them like a madman. I hewed
them down like brushwood. Their swords battered on me like hail, but
hurt me not. I cut a lane through to my friend. He was dead. But he had
throttled the monster, and I had to cut the handful out of its throat,
before I could disengage and carry off his body. They dared not molest
me as I brought him back.”
“He has died well,” said the lady.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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