Selections from the Writings of Lord Dunsany — John Shaqi
Selections from the Writings of Lord DunsanyDunsany, Lord
Science
Selections from the Writings of Lord Dunsany
Dunsany, Lord
Drama; Fantasy literature
The sun set and the gloaming came, and we neared the junction
of Oonrana and Plegáthanees, but in the darkness discerned not
Babbulkund. We pushed on hurriedly to reach the city ere nightfall,
and came to the junction of the River of Myth where he meets with the
Waters of Fable, and still saw not Babbulkund. All round us lay the
sand and rocks of the unchanging desert, save to the southwards where
the jungle stood with its orchids facing skywards. Then we perceived
that we had arrived too late, and that her doom had come to
Babbulkund; and by the river in the empty desert on the sand the
man in rags was seated, with his face hidden in his hands, weeping
bitterly.
* * * * *
Thus passed away in the hour of her iniquities before Annolith, in the
two thousand and thirty-second year of her being, in the six thousand
and fiftieth year of the building of the World, Babbulkund, City of
Marvel, sometime called by those that hated her City of the Dog, but
hourly mourned in Araby and Ind and wide through jungle and desert;
leaving no memorial in stone to show that she had been, but remembered
with an abiding love, in spite of the anger of God, by all that knew
her beauty, whereof still they sing.
THE SPHINX AT GIZEH
I saw the other day the Sphinx's painted face.
She had painted her face in order to ogle Time.
And he has spared no other painted face in all the world but hers.
Delilah was younger than she, and Delilah is dust.
Time hath loved nothing but this worthless painted face.
I do not care that she is ugly, nor that she has painted her face, so
that she only lure his secret from Time.
Time dallies like a fool at her feet when he should be smiting cities.
Time never wearies of her silly smile.
There are temples all about her that he has forgotten to spoil.
I saw an old man go by and Time never touched him.
Time that has carried away the seven gates of Thebes!
She has tried to bind him with ropes of eternal sand, she had hoped to
oppress him with the Pyramids.
He lies there in the sun with his foolish hair all spread about her
paws.
If she ever learns his secret we will put out his eyes, so that he
shall find no more our beautiful things--there are lovely gates in
Florence that I fear he will carry away.
We have tried to bind him with song and with old customs, but they
only held him for a little while, and he has always smitten us and
mocked us.
When he is blind he shall dance to us and make sport.
Great clumsy Time shall stumble and dance, who liked to kill little
children and can hurt even the daisies no longer.
Then shall our children laugh at him who slew Babylon's winged bulls
and smote great numbers of the elves and fairies, when he is shorn of
his hours and his years.
We will shut him up in the Pyramid of Cheops, in the great chamber
where the sarcophagus is. Thence we will lead him out when we give our
feasts. He shall ripen our corn for us and do menial work.
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