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Updated: September 18, 2025
O people of Al-Kyris, hear ye all the words that tell of this Wonderful, Inestimable King of Peace, mine aged eyes do see Him now, far, far off in the rising mist of unformed future things! the Cross the Cross, on which His Man's pure Life dissolves itself in glory, stretches above me in spreading beams of light! ... Ah!
Many such there be now wantoning among us, and the head and chief of them all is perhaps the most popular numskull in Al-Kyris, . . the Poet, bah! ... let us say the braying Jack-ass in office, the laurelled Sah-luma!" Theos gave an indignant start, the hot color flushed his brows, . . then he restrained himself by an effort.
How comes it your dull eyes and ears were fixed so fast upon yon dotard miscreant whose days are numbered? Methought t'was but Sah-luma's voice that could persuade ye to assemble thus in such locust-like swarms.. since when have the Poet and the People of Al-Kyris ceased to be as one?" A vague, muttering sound answered him, whether of shame or dissatisfaction it was difficult to tell.
Again in imagination he beheld the burning "Temple of Nagaya" in his Dream of Al-Kyris, again he saw himself carrying the corpse of his FORMER Self through fire and flame, and again he heard the last words of the dying Zabastes "I was the Poet's adverse Critic, and who but I should write his Eulogy?
His fame, as thou knowest, is unrivalled and universal yet canst thou believe it! ... there has been of late an ass found in Al-Kyris who hath chosen him as a subject for his braying and other asses join in the uneuphonius chorus.
"God speaks to Al-Kyris!" and as the Prophet enunciated these words with majestic emphasis a visible thrill ran through the hushed assemblage.. "God saith: Get thee up, O thou City of Pleasure, from thy couch of sweet wantonness, get thee up, gird thee with fire, and flee into the desert of forgotten things!
"Ah, Sir Gad-about!" he exclaimed in a harsh, squeaky voice as he perceived Sah-luma "Back again from your self-advertising in the city! Is there any poor soul left in Al-Kyris whose ears have not been deafened by the parrot-cry of the name of Sah-luma?
Then, making a cup of the hollowed palms, he drank thirstily several draughts of the cool, sweet water, it seemed to allay the fever in his blood. ... He looked around him with a wild, vague smile, Al-Kyris! ... of course! ... he was in Al-Kyris! why was he so distressed about it?
It was very odd! ... his memory was like a wonderful art-gallery in which some pictures were fresh of tint, while others were dim and faded, . . but this special "tableau" in the Square of Al-Kyris was very distinctly painted in brilliant and vivid colors on the sombre background of his past recollections, and he found the circumstance so remarkable that he was on the point of saying something to Sah- luma about it, when the sun came out again in full splendor, and Zephoranim's spirited steeds started forward at a canter.
Is she not a peerless moon of womanhood? ... doth she not eclipse all known or imaginable beauty? ... Aye! ... and I will tell thee a secret, she is mine! mine from the dark tresses down to the dainty feet! ... mine, all mine, so long as I shall please to call her so! ... notwithstanding that the foolish people of Al-Kyris think she is impervious to love, self-centered, holy and 'immaculate'! Bah! ... as if a woman ever was 'immaculate'! But mark you! ... though she loves me, me, crowned Laureate of the realm, she loves no other man!
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