Atlantis held no kings who warred upon the land thou names, * for they were wise and as allies held the people near and far nor yet desired war where peace could give all that they asked.
Atlantis had no kings who made war on the land you name, * for they were wise. They held the peoples near and far as allies, and they did not want war where peace could give all they asked.
They knew the law of greed, and this they read with eyes so well attuned to higher moods that all was wisely done, and Mercy tempered Greed.
They understood the principles of self-interest, yet they interpreted them with such enlightened perspectives that their actions were balanced and thoughtful. Compassion moderated their pursuit of gain.
Those yellow forms thou namest first came to shape, and soon a nation formed, in that dim morn when in the time of dearth Atlantis drew her bread supply from plains now rank with growth of trees—with bloom that cloys the sense, where serpents twine amid the broad, lush leaves, and beasts prowl greedily among coarse reeds which stand where once great grains of maize did grow.
In ancient times, a civilization emerged from those early yellow forms you mentioned. This was during a period of scarcity when Atlantis relied on distant plains for its food. Today, those same plains are overgrown with dense forests, their cloying scents and broad leaves concealing twisting serpents. Where maize once flourished, coarse reeds now stand, and hungry beasts prowl among them.
A people dark, but lacking not in brain, lived where the river which knows fleet of boats for commerce laves the banks of slime; yet once upon those banks grew grain to feed the world. And thither sent Atlantis men of trust to barter what the smiths did beat from gold, or yet those pictures rare wrought in the metal fair ye name upon the scroll, and yet not so exact in every point of worth, for it still held another added part which saved the metal for the tooth of Time to gnaw and yet not crumble. Aye, I give the method when the hour hath struck.
A clever people with dark skin lived along a river bustling with trade boats, its banks now muddy but once fertile enough to feed the world. Atlantis sent trusted merchants there to trade gold items and rare metal artworks. These weren't pure gold, but contained another element that made them more resistant to decay. I'll reveal how to make this alloy when the time is right.
One man whom king Arman Dorth sent to hold commercial speech with people of that land was Kling. A wise and crafty and far seeing one, who bore him wife and babe with train of slaves. And as he bartered for the filling of his galley's vast, a crafty spokesman of the land of grain held thus his ear:
King Arman Dorth sent Kling, a wise, cunning, and farsighted man, to negotiate trade with the people of a distant land. Kling traveled with his wife, child, and a group of slaves. While he was bargaining to fill his large ship, a clever representative from the grain-producing country caught his attention and said:
"Oh man of worth," spake he, “the plains lie to the northward in the sun that thou couldst people with thy slaves and kin and garner greatest wealth. Wild camels prowl o’er sands whose richness, when the river drinks the drouth, will yield thee wealth of grain like this we hold. And where the ooze of rivers ply the soil great grains, whose whiteness mocks the bloom of lilies, grow.
"My esteemed friend," he said, "the northern plains bask in sunlight, ready for you to populate with your followers and family, and amass great riches. Wild camels roam sands that, when watered by the river after drought, will yield bountiful grain harvests like the one we have here. And where river silt nourishes the earth, crops of white grain, rivaling the purity of lily petals, flourish."
“Let us depart. Take store of grain and make a nation all our own; thou king, I lord of finance to thy house; and thus in time the world shall wonder at our courage and our wealth, and people thrive where now alone the night bat flies and night beasts prowl.”
"Let's go. We'll take plenty of food and build our own nation. You'll be king, and I'll manage the finances. In time, the world will marvel at our bravery and riches, and people will flourish where now only nocturnal creatures roam."
Then he from Atlantis shore spake slow: “I value much thy trust in me, but kindred have I none. None have I save these I bear in carven device—wife and child; for I am but a waif of Ocean. All save I went down in galley.
Then the man from Atlantis spoke slowly: "I appreciate your trust in me, but I have no family. The only ones I have are these carved images I carry—my wife and child. I'm just a lone survivor of the sea. Everyone else went down with the ship."
“I alone am left of four score souls. My father of the plains, my mother, brother, sisters—all, alas! and lesser ties did break in that wild siege of Nature ’gainst mankind.”
"I'm the only survivor out of eighty people. My father from the prairies, my mother, brother, sisters—everyone, sadly! Even distant relatives perished in that brutal onslaught of Nature against humanity."
Spake one: “Thou shalt know a people all thine own ere thou goest hence to that, unseen, far land which shadows people, and where light that laves doth draw its glow and worth from out a Heart that once was all when Earth revolved about a central Sun that held the Life-spark. Nothing else was there.
One said: "Before you depart for that unseen, distant realm where shadows dwell and light draws its glow and value from a Heart that once was everything—when Earth orbited a central Sun that held the essence of Life, and nothing else existed—you will come to know a people who are truly your own."
“Take thou wives of this, my land, and bear with her thou now namest wife to that far country. In secret go we. Of the coffers of this state hold I the key, and we depart with store sufficient for our needs.”
"Marry women from this land and take them, along with your current wife, to that distant country. We'll leave in secret. I control the treasury of this state, and we'll depart with enough resources for our needs."
He pondered, Kling, the man of varying moods, was tempted, fell! The stores ne’er reached that isle where he as wanderer met and loved the one who mother of a nation did become, and lives again on earth, revered, in shape on strange and battered jar which sheddeth incense o’er the worshippers who live and die, give place to other hordes.
Kling, the man of changing moods, pondered. He was tempted, and he fell! The stores never reached the isle where he, as a wanderer, met and loved the woman who became the mother of a nation. She lives again on earth, revered, in a figure on a strange and battered jar. It sheds incense over the worshippers, who live and die and give way to other hordes.
Aye, Kling did turn within his mind these promptings of the one who learned of growth of nations by much study. Knew the worth of power, and long had held in ample cave such "goods" as he had pillaged through the years of his high office.
Indeed, Kling pondered the advice of the scholar who had extensively studied the rise of nations. He understood the value of power and had long kept a vast hoard of plundered treasures in a spacious cave, accumulated during his years in high office.
Kling this crafty one had named as chief. "For," argued he, "the chief hath but the word, the power to bind with reason. I hold power in keys that lock and unlock all the coffers great the state doth own. An empty title tempts me not, for matter not what I am called. Praise is an empty casket. Gold doth fill the mind with fairest visions; in their midst the one who owneth gold is shrined."
This crafty one had named Kling as chief. "For," he argued, "the chief has only the word, the power to bind with reason. I hold power in the keys that lock and unlock all the great coffers the state owns. An empty title does not tempt me, for it does not matter what I am called. Praise is an empty casket. Gold fills the mind with the fairest visions, and the one who owns gold is enshrined in their midst."
And thus began their journey secretly. At night the ships set out for northern point well known to the advisor. Many days both long and weary sailed they until that point was reached. Their ships they bartered to squat men with craft for beasts, for food and for safe conduct to the kingdom's boundary.
They began their journey in secret. The ships departed at night for a northern location familiar to the advisor. After many long and tiring days at sea, they reached their destination. There, they traded their ships to short, stocky men in exchange for animals, provisions, and safe passage to the kingdom's border.
At last the boundary reached, the caravan's great beasts went crashing through the forests' rim which bordered on the desert. Keen, alert rode spearsmen to the rear as to the front, for in that day the world teemed with fierce ones who sought but slaughter.
Finally reaching the border, the caravan's massive animals plowed through the forest's edge, where it met the desert. Sharp-eyed spearmen rode vigilantly at both the front and back, for in those times, the world was full of fierce warriors who lived only for bloodshed.
Mankind is restless. None may taste the joys of peace while in the body. Earth must fade from mortal vision ere the mind is well prepared to grasp the note of peace. And thus the heart of man turns fierce when long balked of adventure.
People are inherently restless. No one can fully experience peace while alive. The physical world must recede from our senses before we can truly comprehend tranquility. Consequently, when deprived of excitement for too long, the human spirit grows aggressive.
Interruption is the spur in side of beast which brings forth thought of slaughter; and the tribes inhabiting the land through which they passed made protest—pricked by spleen; and greed was also born through visions of the state the well-born plunderers did affect, and men were made bold by trespass, fit excuse for war.
Interruption is the spur in the beast's side that brings on thoughts of slaughter. The tribes living in the land the travelers passed through protested, pricked by anger. Greed was also born in them when they saw the splendor the well-born plunderers displayed. And the trespass made these men bold and gave them a fitting excuse for war.
The hordes hung long upon the footsteps of the caravan, and once attacked where desert met the trees which hid the wild assailants; but their mode of warfare being crude they fell an easy prey to those swart spearmen on the great brute's flanks perched arrogant. So peace at last was won and safety held.
The raiders followed the caravan for a long time, eventually attacking where the desert met the treeline that concealed the wild attackers. However, their primitive fighting tactics made them easy targets for the dark-skinned spearmen who sat confidently on the flanks of the large beasts. Eventually, peace and safety were achieved.
Kling's thoughts were wavering still on his forsaking that fair isle—his home, on deeds of kindness at the hand of her, the foster mother, old and sore beset with ingrate children of her blood; on him—the patriarch Atlantian, who had held his hand that day the storm-cast lad lay weeping sore, with bruised limbs and heart that ached for them who sank in that wild storm which cast him forth upon the harbor of the fruitful isle.
Kling's thoughts still wavered over how he had forsaken that fair isle, his home. They turned to the kindness he had received from her, his foster mother, old and sorely troubled by ungrateful children of her own blood. They turned to him, the Atlantian patriarch, who had held his hand on the day the storm-cast boy lay weeping bitterly. The boy's limbs were bruised, and his heart ached for those who sank in that wild storm, the storm that cast him up on the harbor of the fruitful isle.
And she, his wife, had father, mother there, beneath whose roof her rosy childhood passed, and from whose sheltering arms he had decoyed with promises of love unfailing as the gods!
His wife's parents still lived in the home where she had spent her happy childhood. He had lured her away from their protective embrace with vows of eternal love.
Sore beset with memories did Kling glide forth from out his tent at night and paced the sands, unmindful of the eyes which gleamed and glowed, where hillocks vast held long-haired brutes that fought to death. One night he wandered far and halted in surprise, for in the starlight, making hideous moan, lay form of man with speech he once had known.
Troubled by memories, Kling left his tent at night and walked the sands, unaware of the eyes that shone in the darkness, where massive dunes hid long-haired beasts locked in mortal combat. One night, he wandered far and stopped in shock, for in the starlight, making terrible sounds, lay a man whose language he once understood.
"Ah, son!" so spake the creature, tattered, long of hair and beard, a thing of skin which tightly clung to bone—"My son, why fearless wander on the steppes where prowls the tiger that doth live by blood, and serpents, which do sting the prisoned soul to Light? So young, so fearless, who art thou, I pray?" The voice spake low, Kling fell unto his knees.
"Oh, my boy!" said the ragged figure, his long hair and beard hanging loose, his skin clinging tightly to his bones. "Why do you wander so fearlessly across these plains? Tigers prowl here, living off blood, and serpents whose venom can send souls to the afterlife. You're so young, so brave. Who are you, I wonder?" The voice spoke softly, and Kling fell to his knees.
“Ah, Father! Stranger! Man with tongue that draws from out the chambers of my mind the mark of speech like unto them who made my life a heaven when boyhood held my form! My father thus did speak, my mother sweet, with eyes aslant and sparkling, sang fond lays in this, thy tongue which then was mine own tongue.
“Ah, Father! Stranger! Man whose tongue draws out from the chambers of my mind the sound of a speech like that of those who made my life a heaven when I was a boy! My father spoke this way. My sweet mother, with slanted, sparkling eyes, sang loving songs in this, your tongue, which was then my own tongue.
“Whence cometh thou? Do the gods cast down to earth such self-neglected ones as thou to sight appearest? Or from the sands send up the nether gnomes such manhood to the beasts that prowl and sting?”
"Where do you come from? Did the gods send down to Earth someone as disheveled as you appear? Or did the underworld spirits send up from below a man to join the beasts that roam and attack?"
And, in a voice as feeble as the sigh of wind across the plain when first is born the mists of eve, the stranger made reply: “I am the last of a lost clan. Though lost to men of other lands we held in kinsmen's bonds till came dissension.
In a voice as weak as a whisper of wind across the plain at dusk, the stranger replied: "I'm the last of a forgotten clan. Though unknown to outsiders, we remained close-knit until conflict tore us apart."
“My brothers one by one, with followers, set to reach again our land that always far and far away did seem; then famine smote those lingering, and thirst and pestilence. Thus all were lost to history of the World, for none save I survived.
One by one, my brothers and their followers set out to return to our homeland, which always seemed impossibly distant. But famine, thirst, and disease struck those who remained behind. In the end, all were erased from the world's history, for I alone survived.
“The others' fates through years I know not, nor shall know till I have passed! For Death is nigh, but He, my people's God, will gather to Himself the scattered shards and make again a mighty tribe if so He wills; but I shall seek the sky ere this be done.
I don't know what happened to the others over the years, nor will I ever find out in this life! Death is near, but my people's God will bring together the scattered remains and rebuild a powerful nation if that's His will. However, I'll be long gone before that happens.
“I bore the name of Asher; I knew thy father, for I feel the touch of mind with meaning in this hour. Thy father was my kinsman. Side by side we fought in battle. Love touched both our hearts, its rosy finger pointing to the same sweet face, vet he, not I, was chosen by the god to claim the one who bore thee.
"My name was Asher. I knew your father well, as I sense a deep connection in this moment. Your father and I were relatives. We fought together in battle. We both fell in love with the same woman, her beauty captivating us both. Yet fate chose him, not me, to marry the one who would become your mother."
“He to other land from our far home set sail in galley manned by many oars. I watched them sail—those brothers who with me had wandered far—and then turned I and mine our faces to the eastern sun, intent on seeking burial place, for to this end doth man forever trend.
He sailed to distant lands from our faraway home in a ship powered by many oars. I watched as they departed—those brothers who had journeyed far with me—and then my companions and I turned our faces to the rising sun, determined to find a place for our final rest, as this is the ultimate destination for all mankind.
“The tribes beset us; reft us of our instruments, our beasts, our women. Driven thus to seek but food for sustenance for our worn bodies, not of North or South thought we, but wandering on and on we set at last our feet upon the desert confines.
The enemy tribes attacked us, stealing our tools, animals, and women. Forced to focus solely on finding food to survive, we had no concern for North or South. We simply wandered aimlessly until we finally reached the edge of the desert.
“Some of the tribe died early, stung by serpents. Others followed, lingering wanly, clung to life till fell disease had claimed, as I have told. I, last of all, was left as though the life which had imbued my form refused to lift itself to kindred ether.
Some tribe members died quickly from snakebites. Others held on longer, fading slowly until various illnesses took them, as I've mentioned. I alone remained, as if the life force within me stubbornly refused to leave this world for the afterlife.
“Long years passed by. I counted not their flight, for I have scorned to measure Time as man may count, but brain hath wove its stories; brain conjectured. Brain hath teemed with products of a state so grown to fit conditions that it felt no woe in loneliness.
Many years went by. I didn't keep track of their passing, as I disdained measuring time the way humans do. Instead, my mind wove stories and made conjectures. It teemed with ideas born from a state so well-adapted to solitude that I felt no sadness in my isolation.
“Thus I read the stars. Have peered into the lives of things that prowl and gnash white fangs at all save of their breed. To me an open book the weather's moods. I learn of tempests, sand storms, days to come. I learned to crush with foot, all bared, the deadly head and yet remain unharmed.
I interpret the stars. I've observed the lives of predators who bare their teeth at all but their own kind. Nature's moods are clear to me. I foresee storms, both wind and sand, and future days. I've mastered the skill of crushing deadly serpents with my bare foot, emerging unscathed.
“Low at my feet creep wounded beasts; the young that whimper at desertion of their dam beside my door are fed. (If door, indeed, be skins from thorny rod suspended.)
Injured animals crawl to me for help. I feed the young ones crying at my doorstep, abandoned by their mothers. (If you can call hanging animal skins on thorny branches a door.)
“Now doth the body shrink and soul look forth, I read of future methods which shall be employed by thinkers wise in many crafts and arts in ages yet to come. I read, alas! my earth-eyes soon must close, and soul be borne to strange and brilliant planes where sense of touch, they taught, is dead, and sight alone and voice and hearing shall so linger one forgets that Earth is his no more.
The body weakens as the spirit emerges. I envision future techniques that will be used by scholars skilled in various disciplines in the years ahead. Sadly, I realize my mortal eyes will soon shut, and my soul will journey to unfamiliar, dazzling realms. There, I'm told, the sense of touch vanishes, while sight, speech, and hearing remain—so much so that one forgets Earth is no longer home.
“And yet I read of earth's strange change. Of people crowding steppes where now the sand alone doth move to mood of wind, or agitation of the globe, or law that doth prevail and which is life! And thus these sands shall move by drops of dew into a mass of blackness. Blades of grass shall cover all, and beauteous blossoms.
“And yet I read of a strange change in the earth. I read of people crowding the steppes where now only the sand moves, stirred by the mood of the wind, or by a shaking of the globe, or by the law that prevails and which is life! And so these sands shall be turned, by drops of dew, into a black mass. Grass shall cover everything, and beautiful blossoms.
“All is writ so plain upon a parchment swinging in the 'space' where sunbeams, making big the tiny dust-speck, laugh at man's all futile grasp, for growth is all about us. This I read in days so long, with solitude alone to call my friend, companion, that the heart stood still with dread lest Night and Sleep and Death might never fall!
Everything is written clearly on a parchment hanging in the air where sunbeams, highlighting tiny dust particles, mock humanity's futile attempts at understanding. Growth surrounds us everywhere. I read this during long, lonely days when solitude was my only friend and companion. My heart froze with fear that night, sleep, and death might never come to relieve me.
“I read thy purpose. Read, and for long days I watched and waited for thy coming. Get thee hence when I have passed and to the northward turn thy face to solitude; and where long stretches of green reeds wave broad raise thou thy tents.
"I understand your intentions. I've been watching and waiting for your arrival for a long time. When I'm gone, leave this place and head north to the wilderness. Set up camp where you see vast expanses of tall green reeds swaying in the wind."
“In time a city vast shall spring of people all thine own. A race of men adhering to thy teachings through all time. A race of cunning craftsmen, skilled in arts, shall rule. The world at large apart shall view with keen surprise.
“In time a vast city shall spring up, made of people all your own. A race of men who will keep to your teachings through all time. A race of cunning craftsmen, skilled in the arts, shall rule. The rest of the world, standing apart, shall look on with keen surprise.
“Behold, thou art the son of him I loved full well, who hath communed through soul since that wild day when, reft of body, lying on the sands he fled in speech to me! And I have woven thoughts as strands to draw to me thy presence, son of him once loved, of her I loved, but later, she—the bone of strife that brought me hence!
“Behold, you are the son of the man I loved dearly. He has communed with me through the soul since that wild day when, robbed of his body and lying on the sands, he fled to me in speech! And I have woven thoughts like strands to draw you here to me. You are the son of the man I once loved, and of the woman I loved. But later she became the bone of strife that drove me here!
“I wander from my purpose through this speech and, weaker growing, cannot hope to tell my secret—secret of the desert. Wild the barren plain where Death stalks white and dread! Aye, even here with none to peer at me, I hold my secret cuddled to my heart!
I've strayed from my point during this speech, and as I grow weaker, I doubt I can reveal my secret—the secret of the desert. How desolate and barren is this plain where Death roams, pale and terrifying! Yet even here, with no one to witness, I clutch my secret close to my heart.
“In yonder cave it lies. The new day dawns soon. Hold thou my hand till it's appearing, for the chill of night is yet supplanted by another thrill that loosens cords and muscles, rends the bonds and frees the dove that nestles in my breast. To freedom, dove, which is a soul!
It's in that cave over there. Morning is coming soon. Hold my hand until the sun rises, because the cold of night is being replaced by another feeling that relaxes my body, breaks my chains, and frees my spirit. Fly to freedom, my soul!
“And ere it flieth take, my son, this talisman. Hand loosen! soon thou’lt know the touch of gold no more! Why clingeth thou?”
"Before it flies away, take this talisman, my son. Let go! Soon you'll no longer feel gold's touch. Why do you hold on?"
And feebly, in the hand of Kling he laid a bauble, once worn by her he loved—the mother of the man who knelt beneath the sky, red-stained with hint of dawn, nor knew his history would cling to centuries.
Weakly, he placed a trinket in Kling's hand—a memento once worn by the woman he loved, the mother of the man kneeling under the dawn-tinted sky. Little did he know his story would endure for centuries to come.
“Take thou the path that wanders from this tiny spring and by a rock, all whitened, seek the long, loose hanging of my portal. Pass within and ’neath the stone which makes the inner threshold find thou that which thou shalt hand adown the years.
Follow the path leading from this small spring. Look for a white rock, then find the long, hanging entrance to my doorway. Go inside and search beneath the stone forming the inner threshold. There you'll discover something to pass down through generations.
“That which the myriad eyes of nations read. That which shall dictate unto kings, that crowns shall bow to, Death himself divert.”
What millions read across the globe. What will command even kings, make crowns submit, and cause Death itself to change course.
He passed as wandering sunbeams smote the rocks and sand and called the serpents from their sleep and sent to lair the graceful leopard. As he spake so Kling indeed performed.
He died as the wandering sunbeams struck the rocks and sand, calling the serpents from their sleep and sending the graceful leopard to its lair. Kling did exactly as he had said.
The hiding place gave forth a priceless store. Long histories of peoples passed of whom no other trace was held. Of people to the westward, where great temples rose, where sons had set them forth to find a land more fitted to their needs. Of those who perished on the great sea flight, of others of the tribe who now abode neath Orient sun. His brothers all in speech and mode of thought, and mode of harmony in song.
The secret hideaway revealed an invaluable treasure trove of information. It contained extensive histories of long-lost cultures, leaving no other evidence of their existence. These records spoke of western civilizations with grand temples, and of their descendants who ventured out to find more suitable lands. They told of those who perished during the perilous sea voyage, and of others from the same tribe who now lived under eastern skies. All these people shared a common language, philosophy, and musical traditions.
And yet they stood apart from alien tribes. Were strangers in a land where strangers sought commingling with the nations at their door. Would stand apart, a race intensified by thought and custom from the centuries’ line for ages yet to come.
And yet they stood apart from foreign tribes. They were strangers in a land where strangers sought to mingle with the nations at their door. They would stand apart for ages to come, a race intensified by the thought and custom of the centuries’ line.
Marked were they by the hand of isolation. Strong the will still binding to the country left afar. A people chosen for their stolid worth to self. A chosen race to hold tradition strong and mark in time the history of the world. His race that lives today! *
Isolation had marked them with its hand. Strong was the will that still bound them to the country left far behind. A people chosen for their stolid worth to themselves. A chosen race to keep tradition strong and, in time, to mark the history of the world. His race, which lives today! *
There stored, the forming of a government made plain. The law of Life—of Death—the full, deep thought born of communion with the unseen world through sense attuned to Reason. Toil of many years was there bound stone to stone or traced on skins as custom held that age.
There, preserved, were the foundations of governance laid bare. The principles of life and death, and profound insights born from communing with the unseen realm through senses aligned with reason. Years of labor were captured, either etched in stone or inscribed on parchment, as was the custom of that era.
And to the North the wanderers bore, fulfilling prophecy of him who learned in solitude the lessons for the world to glean and make it wiser, better, all fulfilled as he had said who in the desert died at stroke of day. The secret learned, the story told in teachings to the young adown the years.
The travelers journeyed northward, fulfilling the prophecy of the hermit who had gained wisdom in isolation. His lessons, meant to enlighten and improve the world, came to pass just as he had foretold before dying at dawn in the desert. The secret knowledge was passed down through generations, shared in teachings to the young.
Ah, Kling! thy monument still stands, though Time hath strove to crumble; yet the proof is there and in great tomes the speech of other days speaks potently. Thy blood but passed to younger rulers. Down the line hath History handed something of the tale I tell with lips that lie not, neither do pervert, from the first sentence.
Ah, Kling! Your monument still stands, though Time has striven to crumble it. Yet the proof is there, and in great volumes the speech of other days speaks with power. Your blood simply passed on to younger rulers. Down the line, History has handed on something of the tale I tell, from the first sentence, with lips that neither lie nor distort.
Nations grow but slow, yet thou hast grown, O Nation, of such people as ne’er change, to fill the crannied spaces of the plain and overflow to seas. The land which teemed with plenty at its birth hath fallen. In the wilds and ’neath the sands are hid vast temples where stored knowledge lies. And yet they shall endure when brighter lands have darkened—shall become a star of destiny to nations that have scoffed at thee.
Nations grow only slowly, yet you have grown, O Nation, from a people who never change. You have grown to fill the crannies of the plain and to overflow to the seas. The land that teemed with plenty at its birth has fallen. In the wilds and under the sands lie hidden vast temples where knowledge is stored. And yet they shall endure when brighter lands have grown dark. They shall become a star of destiny to the nations that have scoffed at you.