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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Donjalolo, come forth and ponder on thy sires. Here they lie, from dread Marjora down to him who fathered thee. Here are their bones, their spears, and their javelins; their scepters, and the very fashion of their tattooing: all that can be got together of what they were. Tell me, oh king, what are thy thoughts? Dotest thou on these thy sires? Art thou more truly royal, that they were kings?
But alas, in that sunny donjon among the mountains, where he dwelt, how could Donjalolo be sure, that the things he decreed were executed in regions forever remote from his view. Ah! very bland, very innocent, very pious, the faces his viceroys presented during their monthly visits to Willamilla.
Knowing what ye do, were ye me, would ye be kings? Tell me, Talara. No king: no king: that were to obey, and not command. And none hath Donjalolo ere obeyed but the king his father. A king, and my voice may be heard in farthest Mardi, though I abide in narrow Willamilla. My sire! my sire! Ye flying clouds, what look ye down upon? Tell me, what ye see abroad?
Drink, kings, and dash your cups at every draught." So saying, he started from his purple mat; and with one foot planted unknowingly upon the skull of Marjora; while all the skeletons grinned at him from the pavement; Donjalolo, holding on high his blood-red goblet, burst forth with the following invocation:
Whither after spending the shady morning under the eastern cliffs of the glen daily, at a certain hour, Donjalolo in his palanquin was borne; there, finding new shades; and there tarrying till evening; when again he was transported whence he came: thereby anticipating the revolution of the sun.
Hereby was expressed the utmost sumptuousness of a palace. A well warranted saying; for of all the bright places, where my soul loves to linger, the haunts of Donjalolo are most delicious. In the eastern quarter of the glen was the House of the Morning.
Methinks sweet spices breathe from out the cave." "Hail, Donjalolo, King of Juam," now sounded with acclamations from the groves. Starting, the young prince beheld a multitude approaching: warriors with spears, and maidens with flowers; and Kubla, a priest, lifting on high the tasseled girdle of Teei, and waving it toward him. The young chiefs fell back.
For was not that rock inaccessible as the eyrie of young eagles? But to guard against the possibility of any visual profanation, Donjalolo had authorized an edict, forever tabooing that rock to foot of man or pinion of fowl. Birds and bipeds both trembled and obeyed; taking a wide circuit to avoid the spot. Access to the seraglios was had by corresponding arbors leading from the palace.
Said Media, "Had we arrived at Willamilla in the morning, we had found Donjalolo and his court in the eastern village; but being afternoon, we must travel farther, and seek him in his western retreat; for that is now in the shade."
Wending our way, Media added, that aside from his elevated station as a monarch, Donjalolo was famed for many uncommon traits; but more especially for certain peculiar deprivations, under which he labored. Whereupon Braid-Beard unrolled his old chronicles; and regaled us with the history, which will be found in the following chapter. Many ages ago, there reigned in Juam a king called Teei.
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