Welsh literature -- 18th century; Welsh literature -- Translations into English; Wynne, Ellis, 1671-1734
I could see one city of enormous magnitude, with thousands of cities and
kingdoms within it, the wide ocean like a whirlpool around it, and other
seas, like rivers, dividing it into parts. After gazing a longwhile, I
observed that it was made up of three tremendously long streets, with a
large and splendid gateway at the lower end of each street; on each
gateway, a magnificent tower, and on each tower, in sight of all the
street, a woman of exceeding beauty; and the three towers at the back of
the ramparts reached to the foot of that great castle. Of the same
length as these immense streets, but running in a contrary direction, I
saw another street which was but narrow and mean compared with them,
though it was clean and upon higher ground than they, and leading upwards
to the east, whilst the other three led downwards northerly to the great
towers. I could no longer withhold from asking my friend’s permission to
speak. “What then,” said the Angel, “if thou wilt speak, listen
carefully, so that there be no need of telling thee a thing twice.” “I
will, my lord, and prithee,” asked I, “what castle is that, away yonder
to the north?” “That castle aloft in the sky,” said he, “belongs to
Belial, prince of the power of the air, and ruler of all that vast city
below; it is called Castle Delusive: for an arch-deluder is Belial, and
it is through delusion that he is able to keep under his sway all that
thou see’st with the exception of that little bye-street yonder. He is a
powerful prince, with thousands of princes under him. What was Cæsar or
Alexander the Great compared with him? What are the Turk and old Lewis
of France {7} but his servants? Great, aye, exceedingly great is the
might, craftiness and diligence of Prince Belial and of the countless
hosts he hath in the lower region.” “Why do those women stand there?” I
asked, “and who are they?” “Slowly,” cried the Angel, “one question at a
time; they stand there in order to be loved and worshipped.” “No wonder,
in sooth,” said I, “so lovely are they that were I the possessor of hands
and feet as once I was, I too would go and love or worship them.” “Hush!
hush!” cried he, “if that is what thou wouldst do with thy members ’tis
well thou’rt wanting them: know, foolish spirit, that these three
princesses are no other than three destroying enchantresses, daughters of
Prince Belial; and that all the beauty and gentleness which dazzles the
streets, is nought else but a gloss over ugliness and cruelty; the three
within are like their sire, full of deadly venom.” “Woe’s me, is’t
possible,” cried I sorrowfully, “that their love wounds?” “’Tis true,
the more the pity,” said he, “thou art delighted with the way the three
beam on their adorers: well, there is in that ray of light many a
wondrous charm, it blindens them so that they cannot see the hook; it
stupifies them so that they pay no heed to their danger, and consumes
them with an insatiate lust for more, even though it be a deadly poison,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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