There was a big booming in my ears, great heavy iron bells that swung
to-and-fro on either side, and sent out deafening reverberations that
steeped the senses in a musical melody of sonorous sound; to-and-fro,
backward and forward, yet ever receding in a gradually widening circle,
monotonous, mournful, weird, suffusing the soul with an unutterable
sadness, as images of wailing processions, of weeping, empty-armed
women, and widowed maidens flashed through the mind, and settled on the
soul with a crushing, o'er-pressing weight of sorrow.
* * * * *
Now I lay floating, arms outstretched, on an illimitable waste of calm
tranquil waters. Far away as eye could reach, there was naught but the
pale, white-flecked, green waters of this ocean of eternity, and above
the tender blue sky arched down in perfect love of its mistress,
the ocean. Sky and sea, sea and sky, blue, calm, infinite, perfect sea,
heaving its womanly bosom to the passionate kisses of its ardent
sun-lover. Away into infinity stretched this perfectibility of love;
into eternity, I was drifting, alone, silent, yet burdened still with
the remembrance of the sadness of the bells.
Far away, they tolled out the incessant dirge, grown resignedly sweet
now; so intense in its infinite peace, that a calm of love, beyond all
human understanding and above all earthly passions, sank deep into my
soul, and so permeated my whole being with rest and peace, that my lips
smiled and my eyes drooped in access of fulsome joy. Into the
illimitable space of infinity we drifted, my soul and I, borne along
only by the network of auburn hair that floated about me in the green
waters.
* * * * *
But now, a rude grasp from somewhere is laid upon me, pressing upon my
face. Instantly the air grows gloomy, gray, and the ocean rocks
menacingly, while the great bells grow harsh and strident, as they hint
of a dark fate. I clasp my hands appealingly to the heavens; I moan and
struggle with the unknown grasp; then there is peace and the sweet
content of the infinite Nirvana.
Then slowly, softly, the net of auburn hair begins to drag me down below
the surface of the sea. Oh! the skies are so sweet, and now that the
tender stars are looking upon us, how fair to stay and sway upon the
breast of eternity! But the net is inexorable, and gently, slowly pulls
me down. Now we sink straight, now we whirl in slow, eddying circles,
spiral-like; while at each turn those bells ring out clanging now in
wild crescendo, then whispering dread secrets of the ocean's depths. Oh,
ye mighty bells, tell me from your learned lore of the hopes of mankind!
Tell me what fruit he beareth from his strivings and yearnings; know not
ye? Why ring ye now so joyful, so hopeful; then toll your dismal
prophecies of o'er-cast skies?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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