Carthage (Extinct city) -- History -- Fiction; Historical fiction
The moon was rising just above the waves, and on the town which
was still wrapped in darkness there glittered white and luminous
specks:—the pole of a chariot, a dangling rag of linen, the corner of
a wall, or a golden necklace on the bosom of a god. The glass balls on
the roofs of the temples beamed like great diamonds here and there.
But ill-defined ruins, piles of black earth, and gardens formed deeper
masses in the gloom, and below Malqua fishermen’s nets stretched
from one house to another like gigantic bats spreading their wings. The
grinding of the hydraulic wheels which conveyed water to the highest
storys of the palaces, was no longer heard; and the camels, lying
ostrich fashion on their stomachs, rested peacefully in the middle of
the terraces. The porters were asleep in the streets on the thresholds
of the houses; the shadows of the colossuses stretched across the
deserted squares; occasionally in the distance the smoke of a still
burning sacrifice would escape through the bronze tiling, and the heavy
breeze would waft the odours of aromatics blended with the scent of the
sea and the exhalation from the sun-heated walls. The motionless waves
shone around Carthage, for the moon was spreading her light at once upon
the mountain-circled gulf and upon the lake of Tunis, where flamingoes
formed long rose-coloured lines amid the banks of sand, while further
on beneath the catacombs the great salt lagoon shimmered like a piece
of silver. The blue vault of heaven sank on the horizon in one direction
into the dustiness of the plains, and in the other into the mists of the
sea, and on the summit of the Acropolis, the pyramidal cypress trees,
fringing the temple of Eschmoun, swayed murmuring like the regular waves
that beat slowly along the mole beneath the ramparts.
Salammbô ascended to the terrace of her palace, supported by a female
slave who carried an iron dish filled with live coals.
In the middle of the terrace there was a small ivory bed covered
with lynx skins, and cushions made with the feathers of the parrot, a
fatidical animal consecrated to the gods; and at the four corners rose
four long perfuming-pans filled with nard, incense, cinnamomum, and
myrrh. The slave lit the perfumes. Salammbô looked at the polar star;
she slowly saluted the four points of heaven, and knelt down on the
ground in the azure dust which was strewn with golden stars in imitation
of the firmament. Then with both elbows against her sides, her fore-arms
straight and her hands open, she threw back her head beneath the rays of
the moon, and said:
“O Rabetna!—Baalet!—Tanith!” and her voice was lengthened in
a plaintive fashion as if calling to some one. “Anaïtis! Astarte!
Derceto! Astoreth! Mylitta! Athara! Elissa! Tiratha!—By the hidden
symbols, by the resounding sistra,—by the furrows of the earth,—by
the eternal silence and by the eternal fruitfulness,—mistress of the
gloomy sea and of the azure shores, O Queen of the watery world, all
hail!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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