DOI Artikel:
Gilchrist, Robert Murray: The crimson weaver
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27805#0275
By R. Murray Gilchrist 271
arches. Huge pike quivered on the muddy bed, crayfish moved
sluggishly amongst the weeds.
There was an island in the middle, where a leaden Diana, more
compassionate than a crocodile, caressed Actaeon’s horns ere
delivering him to his hounds. The huntress’ head and shoulders
were white with the excrement of a crowd of culvers that moved
as if entangled in a snare.
Northwards an avenue rose for the space of a mile, to fall
abruptly before an azure sky. For many years the yew-mast on
the pathway had been undisturbed by human foot; it was covered
with a crust of greenish lichen.
My Master pressed my fingers. “ There is some evil in the
air of this place,” he said. “ I am strong, but you—you may not
endure. We will return.”
“’Tis an enchanted country,” I made answer, feverishly. “At
the end of yonder avenue stands the palace of the sleeping maiden
who awaits the kiss. Nay, since we have pierced the country
thus far, let us not draw back. You are strong, Master—no evil
can touch us.”
So we fared to the place where the avenue sank, and then our
eyes fell on the wondrous sight of a palace, lying in a concave
pleasaunce, all treeless, but so bestarred with fainting flowers, that
neither blade of grass nor grain of earth was visible.
Then came a rustling of wings above our heads, and looking
skywards I saw flying towards the house a flock of culvers like
unto those that had drawn themselves over Diana’s head. The
hindmost bird dropped its neck, and behold it gazed upon us with
the face of a mannikin !
“They are charmed birds, made thus by the whim of the
Princess,” I said.
As the birds passed through the portals of a columbary that
crowned
arches. Huge pike quivered on the muddy bed, crayfish moved
sluggishly amongst the weeds.
There was an island in the middle, where a leaden Diana, more
compassionate than a crocodile, caressed Actaeon’s horns ere
delivering him to his hounds. The huntress’ head and shoulders
were white with the excrement of a crowd of culvers that moved
as if entangled in a snare.
Northwards an avenue rose for the space of a mile, to fall
abruptly before an azure sky. For many years the yew-mast on
the pathway had been undisturbed by human foot; it was covered
with a crust of greenish lichen.
My Master pressed my fingers. “ There is some evil in the
air of this place,” he said. “ I am strong, but you—you may not
endure. We will return.”
“’Tis an enchanted country,” I made answer, feverishly. “At
the end of yonder avenue stands the palace of the sleeping maiden
who awaits the kiss. Nay, since we have pierced the country
thus far, let us not draw back. You are strong, Master—no evil
can touch us.”
So we fared to the place where the avenue sank, and then our
eyes fell on the wondrous sight of a palace, lying in a concave
pleasaunce, all treeless, but so bestarred with fainting flowers, that
neither blade of grass nor grain of earth was visible.
Then came a rustling of wings above our heads, and looking
skywards I saw flying towards the house a flock of culvers like
unto those that had drawn themselves over Diana’s head. The
hindmost bird dropped its neck, and behold it gazed upon us with
the face of a mannikin !
“They are charmed birds, made thus by the whim of the
Princess,” I said.
As the birds passed through the portals of a columbary that
crowned