Welsh literature -- 18th century; Welsh literature -- Translations into English; Wynne, Ellis, 1671-1734
There were yet seven other prisoners, who kept up such commotion and
clamour—some blandishing, gnashing the teeth and uttering threats, others
giving advice and so on. Scarcely had they been summoned to the bar than
the whole court darkened sevenfold more hideously than before, a
murmuring and great confusion arose around the throne, and Death became
more livid than ever. Upon enquiry it seemed that one of Lucifer’s
envoys had arrived, bearing a letter to Death, concerning these seven
prisoners; and shortly, Fate called for silence to read the letter which,
as far as I can recollect, was as follows:—
“LUCIFER, _King of the Kings of Earth_, _Prince of Perdition and
Archruler of the Deep_, _To our natural son_, _mightiest and most
terrible King Death_, _greeting_, _wishing you supremacy and booty
without end_:
“Whereas some of our swift messengers, who are always out espying,
have informed us that there lately came into your royal court seven
prisoners of the seven most worthless and dangerous species in the
world, and that you are about to hurl them over the precipice into my
realm: our advice is, that you endeavour, by every possible way, to
let them return to the earth; there they will be more serviceable—to
you, in the matter of food, to me, for supplying better company. We
had too much trouble with their partners in days gone by, and our
kingdom is, even now, unsettled. Wherefore, turn them back or retain
them yourself; for, by the infernal crown, if thou cast them hither,
I will undermine the foundations of thy kingdom, until it fall and
become one with mine own great realm.
“_From our Court_, _on the miry Swamp in the glowing Evildom_, _in
the year of our reign_, _5425_.”
King Death, his visage green and livid, stood for a time undecided. But
while he was meditating, Fate turned upon him such a grim frown that he
trembled. “Sire,” said Fate, “consider well what you are about to do. I
dare not allow anyone to repass the bounds of Eternity—the insurmountable
ramparts, nor deign you harbour any here, wherefore, send them on to
their doom, spite of the great Evil One. He has been able to array in a
moment many a haul of a thousand or ten thousand souls, and allot each
one his place, and what difficulty will he have with these seven now,
however dangerous they may be? Whatever happen, even if they overturn
the infernal government, send them thither instantly, lest I be commanded
to crush thee to untimely nothingness. As for his menaces, they are
false, and although thy doom, and that of yon ancient (looking at Time),
are not many pages hence, yet, thou need have no fear of sinking down to
Lucifer, for however glad everybody there would be to have thee, they
never will; for the eternal rocks of steel and adamant, which roof Hell,
are somewhat too firm to be shattered.” Whereupon Death, in great
agitation, called for someone to indite thus his reply:—
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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