Thou asketh of the origin of "wheat," the golden corn that rustled at the breath of eve and drank the waters of the Southern Moon, and glistened as the coin which all do crave?
You ask about the origins of wheat, that golden grain that whispers in the evening breeze, nourished by the waters of the Southern Moon, and gleams like the coins we all desire?
It sprang to being from a wayside spray that God created for the birds which sang in that lost land, now sunk but shall arise again with all its drowned wealth of upbuilded fanes and walls and palaces which Ocean hides and laves, and yet rebuilds with shapes in pearl, and shell and life that drinketh deep of ocean life and knows not sun-shape.
It emerged from a roadside branch that God made for the birds singing in that forgotten land. Though now submerged, this place will rise again, with all its sunken riches of temples, walls, and palaces. The ocean conceals and washes over them, yet rebuilds them in pearl, shell, and marine life that thrives in the deep, never knowing the sun's form.
Upon that isle ’twas nurtured, grown by process learned from nature's secrets by the wise of that sunk land when black as midnight's scroll were, mostly, eyes and hair of men who peopled earth.
On that island it was cultivated, grown using methods learned from nature's secrets by the sages of that sunken land. Back then, most people on Earth had eyes and hair as dark as the night sky.
They digged and planted, garnered too, and made the fleecy stuff for food that men today call by such name as then they had not spake, yet still the body nourished was the same.
They dug and planted, and harvested too. They made the fleecy stuff, flour, for food. Men today call it by a name they did not yet speak then. Yet the body was nourished just the same.
Great ships sailed, dragged to the water's edge by bulk of grains, propelled by oars that sped them onward to a land more blessed, for none save they, my fathers of the ancient line, did grow for centuries that food, that grain which was once a seed.
Massive vessels set sail, laden with bountiful harvests, their oars driving them towards more prosperous shores. For generations, only my ancestors cultivated this vital crop, which began as a single seed.
A liquid yellow as the light of morn was once distilled from out its heart, and drunk alone by sages, kings. Not the fiery fluid which today ye know, but an elixir mixed with well-riped wine which then produced a power of thought and vigor of the brain that gave discernment to the dullest mind.
A golden liquid, bright as dawn, was once extracted from its core and consumed exclusively by wise men and rulers. Unlike the potent drink you know today, this was an elixir blended with aged wine. It produced a mental clarity and cerebral energy that sharpened even the slowest minds.
The raving were made peaceful; the fever-smitten were thus healed; they called it "breath of gods." The liquid, priceless, hidden was in one vast temple when the watery wall rose up engulfing all that land. Nor yet the secret was to Egypt borne, for they who drank, as they who had distilled, were not of that small band which sought fair Egypt's shore.
The manic were calmed; the feverish were cured. They called it the "breath of gods." This invaluable, secret liquid was stored in an immense temple when the flood engulfed the entire land. The secret wasn't brought to Egypt, as those who drank it and those who made it weren't among the small group that reached Egypt's coast.
The marriage laws, ye question? Priesthood reigned, save for a space at least, and laws for marriages were made to fit the priest's own will; nor king did understand that "counsel" meant the tightening of a bond cast in the name of gods that he did claim as his protectors.
You ask about the marriage laws? The priesthood ruled, except for one period at least. Laws for marriages were made to fit the priest's own will. Nor did the king understand that "counsel" meant tightening a bond cast in the name of the gods he claimed as his protectors.
Nay, no voice had they—the wedded—to speak of choice or hate; for at their birth the priest, the leech, the monarch, mayhap counsel held. "We wed these scions of the house of Ram (or Ses)," whichever god the parents claimed. And at the time when "woman" on the brow was writ, and manhood spake in nature's mark and law, the priests assembled and the monarch held a grand assembly, all the state partook of that one union holding revel high and showering gifts.
No, the wedded had no voice to speak of choice or hatred. For at their birth the priest, the physician, and the monarch perhaps held counsel. "We wed these scions of the house of Ram (or Ses)," they would say, naming whichever god the parents claimed. And when "woman" was written on the brow, and manhood spoke in nature's mark and law, the priests assembled. The monarch held a grand assembly, and the whole state took part in that one union, holding high revel and showering gifts.
"The gods are binding fast two hearts," they spake, "’tis well." But should a wife be smitten ere a birth proclaimed her lord a father, he who wed must pray to Ses for years ye number ten ere he another bride could claim; and she must have been blessed at birth as bride of one who passed. "Widows" wedded only with the priesthood. All pertaining to the marriage state was wrought with words so solemn naught but death could change.
"The gods are binding two hearts fast," they said. "It is well." But a wife might be struck down before a birth proclaimed her lord a father. Then the husband had to pray to Ses for ten of your years before he could claim another bride. And she must have been blessed at birth as the bride of a man who had died. "Widows" married only into the priesthood. Everything about the married state was wrought with words so solemn that nothing but death could change it.
Instructors for the youth could claim both wife and slave; a second wife who bore no sons nor daughters (this the leech forbade) and, thus barren found a grave—a saddened lot when motherhood in that young age held all of joy.
Teachers could have both a wife and a slave. A second wife who couldn't bear children (as forbidden by the doctor) and remained childless, eventually died—a tragic fate in an era when motherhood was considered life's greatest joy.
An infant born was closely watched by leech, and if, perchance, the moon had risen round six times and it showed weakness of the brain its life went out to gods who bore the soul, they well believed, to heaven for infants' souls. If at its birth the shape lacked aught of symmetry, or strength to wail was lacking, it left no memory of its birth or name upon the parents' minds, who all resigned did speak: "The gods receive."
The physician closely watched every newborn infant. Perhaps the moon had come round full six times and the child showed weakness of the brain. Then its life was sent out to the gods, who, they firmly believed, carried the soul to the heaven for infants' souls. If at its birth its shape lacked any symmetry, or it lacked the strength to wail, it left no memory of its birth or name on its parents' minds. Fully resigned, they would say: "The gods receive."
Aye, named. Named ere the light was shown to those dim eyes that looked from body on the things of earth; for leech's skill foretold a daughter or a son—much longed for; but the matter of the sex could He alone present who giveth all! No wisdom learns the method. Thus God's mark is set on all. He maketh as His will dictateth nor shall man so shape his ways but they shall fit the mood of that great great God-mind. Ye shall read the law!
Yes, named. Named before those hazy eyes even saw the light of day. The doctor's expertise predicted a child—boy or girl—long hoped for. But only God, the giver of all, could determine the sex. No human wisdom can fathom His methods. Thus, God's mark is on everything. He creates according to His will, and no man can shape his path without fitting into God's grand design. You shall understand this law!
At death a father portioned off his household goods, the gods had yielded him throughout the years, to every child like portion; and so sacred was the gift, he gave the mother to the eldest's care. Tenderness surrounded her till death and honors heaped on monument proclaimed her name and station, deeds for good or ill, for nothing was withheld.
When a father died, he divided his possessions - the wealth granted by the gods over his lifetime - equally among his children. This division was considered sacred. He entrusted the eldest child with their mother's care. She was treated with love and respect until her death. Her tombstone was adorned with honors, detailing her name, social status, and all her actions, both good and bad. Nothing was left unsaid.
Nay, Earth received not to her arms the husk of them who passed, but fires were builded high of fragrant wood and subtle breath of spice condensed in fragments of fine stone; and on the pyre was cast, in robes of white, the form once loved but tendered to the gods when soul had fled.
The bodies of the departed were not buried in the ground. Instead, towering funeral pyres were built using aromatic wood and concentrated incense. The deceased, dressed in white robes, were placed on these pyres. Their physical remains were offered to the gods after the soul had departed.
A monument was raised and feasting took the place of fasting, for the gods were said to Celebrate the soul's return unto the Arms that cast it forth. All was well. None feared the end if so it were peaceful. Death did hold enticement unto him who well had wrought his life's appointment.
A memorial was built and celebrations replaced mourning, as it was believed the gods rejoiced when a soul returned to its creator. Everyone was content. No one feared death if it came peacefully. Those who had lived a fulfilling life found death appealing.
The priesthood gained its power from sons of men who formed the counsel—nobles. Sent afar to learn the ways of men of other lands, they wondrous knowledge gained and knowledge meaneth power! Each noble of the counsel gave but twain—the elder sons.
The priesthood's power came from the sons of nobles who formed the council. These young men were sent abroad to study foreign cultures, gaining valuable knowledge—and knowledge is power! Each council member contributed only their two eldest sons.
For though believing in the gods, a subtle voice contended to the people that the brother priests might plot great power to wield; thus from each household twain at most were given. "To warfare was he born," was written on the tablets when the third son of a household saw the light, and thus his destiny was fixed by fate, by priesthood and through teachings, and those youths were taught the use of spear, of bow and of the missile thrower which the men of later age did cultivate.
Though people believed in the gods, a nagging suspicion spread that the priests might scheme to gain too much power. As a result, families were allowed to send no more than two children to the priesthood. When a third son was born, his fate was sealed with the words "Born for war" inscribed on official records. His destiny was shaped by fate, religious leaders, and education. These young men were trained in the use of spears, bows, and early versions of projectile weapons that would be refined by future generations.
Aye, death it dealt to many, scattering fire as well as missiles at the foe; a fire they could not quench; and in the air it circled drawing breath from body; fire so dense with smoke and pungent smell the smitten died ere word could pass his lips. Yet one afar, so wise they named him Calus Heldi (man of mind) did give relief to those—his warrior friends, inventing such a barrier for the mouth, the face, as checked the ravage of the fire until its discontinuation was result.
Indeed, death came to many, as the weapon unleashed both fire and projectiles upon the enemy. The fire was unquenchable, and the air became thick with smoke and noxious fumes. Victims perished before they could even speak. However, a distant sage known as Calus Heldi (the "man of mind") provided relief to his fellow warriors. He invented a protective barrier for the mouth and face, which halted the fire's destructive effects until it eventually ceased.
He wove of "wire" so cunningly designed it held within its coils that gripped the ears two tiny flasks of purest glass which held a drop of strong distilled vapour from a shrub; and this strong vapour met the deadly fumes and checked their virulence. ’Twas simple, seemingly, so simple they who battled scoffed when first he spake "behold, I save from death our valiant men of battle."
He crafted a device with coils that gripped the ears, containing two small glass vials filled with potent plant extract. This extract neutralized the lethal fumes. Though it seemed basic, those fighting initially mocked him when he declared, "Look, I'm saving our brave soldiers from death."
Yea, warriors came from lands afar unto Atlantis. Great galleys beat at times upon the sand; great boats which stole at night from out the dark and hungry foe, barbarian, crept to cot or palace walls, beat back by guards or left to slaughter innocence and age or manly priest who spake of gods to ears deaf to the Higher.
Warriors arrived in Atlantis from distant lands. Large ships sometimes landed on the beaches, while others secretly approached under cover of darkness. Barbarian enemies snuck up to homes and palaces, either repelled by guards or left to murder the innocent, the elderly, and the priests who spoke of gods to those unwilling to hear of higher powers.
Atlantis knew the grace of music; builded instruments to catch the notes of Nature; of that subtle music of the spheres which gross ears attuned to jarring sounds of Earth may never hear, but builded so completely were those harps of metal frame and silken cords, bound down the finest crystal which quivered at a stroke of the magnetic ether so that a tone from out the "silence" came and smote the ear of listener till his soul was all attuned to higher music, drunk by those around the throne of God, ye speak.
Atlantis embraced the beauty of music, crafting instruments to capture nature's melodies. They even created devices to detect the ethereal music of the spheres, inaudible to ears accustomed to Earth's harsh sounds. These sophisticated harps, made with metal frames and silk strings, were anchored by the finest crystal. When struck by magnetic waves, they vibrated, producing tones from the "silence" that captivated listeners. These sounds elevated the soul, aligning it with the divine music heard by those surrounding God's throne.
Thus every palace held the instrument, and men played not upon it, nor beat they music from the keys of ivory then, but left the task to sighing winds, to streams so vagrant in the atmosphere that one would smile at thought of unseen hands of breeze which gave out music ravishing the soul, yet so it was.
Every palace had this instrument, but people didn't play it or create music from its ivory keys. Instead, they left the task to the sighing winds and atmospheric currents. One might have smiled at the idea of invisible hands of breeze producing soul-stirring music, yet that was indeed the case.
Great instruments there were in fountains set, where marble rose pillar’d, high, embossed with pictured scenes of marriage fête, birds that sang sweet songs, or animal that prowled with grace of shape which mocked, again I speak, the artists wondrous skill.
Magnificent fountains stood adorned with intricate devices, surrounded by towering marble pillars. These pillars were beautifully carved with scenes of wedding celebrations. Lifelike birds seemed to sing sweet melodies, while graceful animals appeared to prowl. Once again, I must emphasize how these sculptures truly showcased the artists' remarkable talent.
For, life imbued, the smallest creeping thing is fraught with beauty in comparison with modeled clay or stroke of brush by man. Those courts held vases of the beaten stuff * ye coin, and barter, not "for good of soul," and crystal basins held the bloom of rose, or pungent dust that cast sweet breath around, and tiny trees sprang up, as Nature there had placed, in basket rooted in rich soil.
For the smallest creeping thing, filled with life, is full of beauty compared with modeled clay or a brushstroke made by man. Those courts held vases of the beaten metal * that you coin and trade, not "for the good of the soul." Crystal basins held rose blossoms, or a pungent powder that spread a sweet scent around. And tiny trees sprang up in baskets, rooted in rich soil, as if Nature had placed them there.
And everywhere cringed slave to master, blind to beauty, set alone on making life a joy to them who held in bonds of law man-made!
And everywhere slaves cringed before their masters. They were blind to beauty, set only on making life a joy for those who held them in bonds of man-made law!
The instrument which made the fountain's tone a murmur of sweet sound asketh thou? Enshaped like fan that cooleth heated brow, and spun of cords of metal made by smith who worked from dawn till midnight on one strand, spun fine as infant's hair, yet toughened by a method lost to art, even then complex and fortunes representing.
You ask what instrument made the fountain's sound a murmur of sweet music? It was shaped like a fan that cools a heated brow. It was spun from cords of metal, made by a smith who worked from dawn till midnight on a single strand. Each strand was spun as fine as a baby's hair, yet toughened by a method now lost to art. Even then it was complex, and it represented fortunes.
Slaves and gems, aye crowns, would have been bartered for the secret. Yet the secret was Baun El's alone, nor king nor noble sought to wrest from him what he had won through strong approval of the gods, they spake, and dared not wrest from him lest plague of blindness smite their eyes, or numbness seize the hands, which sought to grasp the secret of the God-sent knowledge.
People would have traded slaves, jewels, and even kingdoms for the secret. But it belonged to Baun El alone. Neither king nor noble tried to take what he had earned through divine favor. They believed the gods approved of his possession of the secret and feared that trying to steal it would bring a curse of blindness or paralysis upon them. So they dared not attempt to seize this divinely granted knowledge.
Thus he worked in peace and builded for the king, for nobles, fans for water-music sweet.
So he worked in peace, and built fans for sweet water-music for the king and for the nobles.
In every strand was wove a gem of worth which meant a slave or kingdom, and as the fountain rose and fell the song rang soft or loud, and when a storm swept o’er the ocean it did drink the unrest of the atmosphere and made a swelling cloud of music that would smite the soul of listener.
In every strand was woven a gem worth a slave or a kingdom. As the fountain rose and fell, the song rang soft or loud. When a storm swept over the ocean, it drank in the unrest of the air. It made a swelling cloud of music that would strike the listener's soul.
Unto their knees fell slaves, so smiting was that cloud of sound and even nobles wept, the inner sense so torn by strong emotion, as the soul rebelled and strove to burst the bonds that held to form. Ah! music is the language of the heights! Yet not the beaten melody ye hear, but soft, or silent to the clay ear deaf to higher notes.
Slaves fell to their knees, overwhelmed by the powerful wave of sound. Even nobles wept, their inner selves shaken by intense emotion as their souls rebelled, struggling to break free from their physical constraints. Music truly is the language of the sublime! Yet it's not the familiar melodies you hear, but rather the subtle or silent tones inaudible to earthly ears that can't perceive higher frequencies.
Aye, skilled were they—the sons of old Atlantis in all arts. They builded volumes from the store of mind, gleaned where strange peoples dwell on other spheres; some, creatures of a form ye ne’er have known, and others like to men of Earth with beauty rare, and heart attuned to all the great and soul-learned knowledge from the first.
Yes, the sons of old Atlantis were skilled in all the arts. They wrote volumes from the stores of the mind, gleaned from where strange peoples dwell on other spheres. Some of these peoples are creatures of a form you have never known. Others are like the men of Earth, with rare beauty, and with hearts attuned to all the great, soul-learned knowledge from the first.
Their language but a motion of the lips, yet brain cast out its thoughts so plain to those about that inner sense was touched and tuned to harmony of thought and sound. To sense spake melody in sigh of winds that swept the plains on planets, verdure blessed, and banks of bloom cast out their fragrant speech to souls attuned to language of the beings deemed inanimate, yet holding life in every fiber, these.
Their words were more than just lip movements. Their minds projected thoughts so clearly that those around them could sense and understand them, creating a harmony of thought and sound. The sighing winds across lush planets sang melodies to receptive souls. Fragrant flowers on blooming banks spoke their own language. These seemingly lifeless things were actually teeming with life in every fiber, communicating with those attuned to hear them.
Aye, life in color, too, and shape and language which the toiling soul did learn and gathered knowledge where it only wonder held before. Vast knowledge from a source man dared proclaim but made for toy to beautify the state each soul may dare to keep!
Yes, there was life in color too, and in shape and language. The toiling soul learned these, and gathered knowledge where before it had held only wonder. It was vast knowledge, from a source that man dared to proclaim, but made into a toy to beautify the state each soul may dare to keep!
They wrote in volumes what the star-men read—from birds a melody of thought which turned unto the Higher-songs of birds. Aye, voicing thought as man may voice his thoughts in accents harsh or low.
They wrote in volumes what the star-men read. From birds came a melody of thought, which led on to the Higher-songs of birds. Yes, the birds voiced thought as a man may voice his thoughts, in accents harsh or low.
Each presence cast a color to the eye. A friend shed softest hues, a foe a glare of light that warned and checked complacency.
Each presence cast a color that the eye could see. A friend gave off the softest hues. A foe gave off a glare of light that warned and checked complacency.
They wrote that ether yielded force for labor. Streams of ether carried shape to other realm—the shape akin to substance, yet the clay shape lay in state when soul did journey.
They claimed that ether provided energy for work. Streams of ether transported a person's form to another realm—a form similar to their physical body, while the actual body remained motionless as the soul traveled.
They of Atlantis read by subtle thought cast out and seldom read amiss; and we of Egypt caught a glimmer here, a memory there, of what our sires did know; yet not all the knowledge which men of that sunk land did glean, for war and pillage cursed my land till fled the higher science.
The Atlanteans could read minds with remarkable accuracy. We Egyptians only glimpsed fragments of our ancestors' knowledge. Yet even we didn't grasp all the wisdom of that lost civilization, as war and plunder drove advanced learning from our shores.
Ah! I wander from Atlantis to that land whose glory passed, as passeth fleeting cloud, where naught save alien force exists today to typify the power that ruled the world!
Oh! I roam from Atlantis to a country whose fame vanished like a passing cloud. Now, only foreign powers remain there, a pale shadow of the empire that once ruled the world!
Atlantis? Aye, Atlantis was our theme; broad isle that held the shrubs of Africa and, later from the land ye name as "Asia"—land of balm and subtle spice.
Atlantis was indeed our topic of discussion. That vast island once hosted plants native to Africa, and later, vegetation from what you now call Asia—a land known for its fragrant herbs and exotic spices.
Atlantis held the sons of self-taught sages; sages taught to read by introspection all which met the eye, and from the silent voice that filleth "space" they caught the meaning of the planet laws—of people on the ether planes—of growth made sure by scientific rule and keenest insight born of observation of each small detail and taught the secret unto others.
Atlantis was home to the children of self-educated wise people. These sages learned to interpret everything they saw through deep reflection. They understood the laws governing planets and the beings inhabiting ethereal realms by listening to the quiet voice that permeates the cosmos. Through careful observation of even the smallest details, they gained scientific knowledge and keen insights about growth and development. These sages then passed on their secret wisdom to others.