{"collection":"atl","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/atl/smoa/smoa24.htm","path":"atl/smoa/smoa24.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/atl/smoa/smoa24.htm","text":"Selestor's Men of Atlantis, by Clara Iza von Ravn, [1937]\nDeath of the king of Atlantis on the day of the great sea-fight.\nThou asketh of the fate of him, the king who reigned when the great nations met in war upon the day that followed f\u00eate?\nAye, thus I speak as through thy hand I mark events to make the world of knowledge learn that I am man, though yet unseen by thee or others\u2019 eyes\u2014am called but \"Selestor.\"\nFalse the name, and history writes in tomes my name once known to nations; yet I hold it well to guard the secret\u2014secret of a line which, sunk in deep oblivion all that bore the emblem of a state but mocked today.\nThe death of him who reigned when Northmen bold did seek to barter strength for beauty's prize, for gems, the isle itself, exchange perchance for northern border cold and grey, the haunt of bear and snarling wolf, and frost, black, deadly to the tender Southern ones. Such was our theme.\nHe whom Atlantis called her king was wise, not wily, and excess he did abhor; and yet that day his galleys sailed to war he drank him deep of \"liquor,\" as ye speak in modern times.\nAn alcoholic liquor made from wheat and juice of palm. A mixture fiery and reserved for revelers; but the king befitting thought the draught in time of stress, so drank he long and deep.\nHis brain grew dizzy nor sight nor sound he knew, and falling prone, ere slaves could spring to save, the kingly brow smote marble and his senses\nfled and yet he lingered. Slaves stood near to spring at leeches' bidding for the quickening draught or cooling mixture, for the bowl of gold that caught the flow from pierced arm.\nAnd yet no sense returned till evening. No glance of recognition met the gaze of her, his queen, nor of them\u2014the buds of kingly tree to bloom when he had passed, the daughters fair, and son, the prince\u2014the king!\nAnd as he lingered came an ancient one unto his door\u2014door bereft of hanging, that the wind of eve might freshly blow across the clammy brow, perchance bring healing in its salted breath all scented with the kisses of the rose, the lily white which marked the king's domain, the jasmine growing where the palm tree's shade cast cooling shadows.\nAll was peace and calm, save in the hearts of subjects, torn that day with various woes\u2014the youth of nation on the sea to war\u2014the king in stupor\u2014waiting they.\nCrept an ancient one into the hall where on the ivory couch the king lay prone.\nSpake she, unchecked, for grief had so sore beset the leech that vaunted skill fulfilled no purpose.\nStatesmen stood dumb, the queen had fled and by the hand led children weeping sore\u2014the offspring of a line of kings for generations, but their hearts, as tender as the slaves bore sorrow ill.\nWith lips that set all firmly, brow that frowned, spake she, the ancient: \"King, but not a god, ye now are called! and going take not state nor thing of earth, not life nor love nor gold to mark thee aught save but a wandering soul!\n\"And yet, mayhap, the state which Earth doth keep the gods permit in realms more fair than\nthine, which yet is fairer than this earth holds other-where.\"\n\u201cWhy speakest thou? Begone! hushed the voice of one big with authority. And slaves were bidden take the intruder from the palace.\n\u201cBut the ancient rose to height unthought of: \u201cTouch me not! He dieth! He\u2014the son who drew his life from this shrunk form! This do I swear who face the stroke of Ses and shall I, whose moments thus are numbered, dare speak me false?\n\u201cAh, nay! His sire a king, but I, whose glorious crown of womanhood was beauty and my curse, bore him who lieth on the ivory couch!\n\u201cThe rightful heir, ye men of earth may speak, died at his birth; yet ye knew naught of this, so well my secret kept the favored slaves.\n\u201cHe liveth yet again on ether planes\u2014my son! Not her\u2019s\u2014the hated rival's\u2014the queen ye knew who early passed. My son! The pomp and state, with knowledge, too, were mine as thine and in them gloated I. No less a king because, forsooth, the maid they chose for him\u2014thy sire\u2014was not thy dam.\n\u201cI was and am no slave. A 'trader' was my sire. One of that land ye speak of as a cloud, or mist, so far away it seems to you who journey not. And scorn ye, too, its people who, born to war, in time of stress take to them deadly moods and harbor hate, and so demand what thou dost deem a sin\u2014the eye for eye and tooth for tooth\u2014adown their line for centuries.\n\u201cHe dieth!\n\u201cAs the sun sinks!\n\u201cLow lies he!\n\u201cMy son!\n\u201cThe well beloved!\n\u201cThe son of him beloved in my youth and loving me till beauty fled. Farewell!\u201d\nHer chant was finished, sank she on the threshold. Passed her soul.\nThe secret, kept so well by them who, awe-struck heard, no seeming break in line occurred; and thus the prince born of the sinning line reigned long reigned well.\nThe sun had set ere called the gods the soul of him, the king, to realms of peace.\nAnd double sorrow had the people all, and double mourning, for them, the battle slain, and for their reigning king. A monarch wise in much that wisdom gives to thought\u2014a purpose for the betterment of people subject unto him. And kindly spake the nation as one voice:\n\"The son, now king, perchance will strive to reign with just humility, yet fail to reach the standard of his sire.\"\nAnd thus it fell.\nAll day, I spake, the king did linger, but at eve the mists of deep oblivion left the sunken eye, and reaching out his arms as though to clasp he cried:\n\u201c\u2019Tis won! I see them meet the foe!\n\u201cTonight Earth's sun doth set for me indeed, but subjects spring around me on the ether planes where soul doth trend.\n\u201cMy subjects sent in haste through stress of battle, yet I seek not alone the planes, but with fitting band, a king and subjects!\u201d\nThus he spake and died.\nThe third in line was he. His sires brave and wise. His son no traitor to ancestral grasp of power.","title":"Selestor's Men of Atlantis: Chapter XXII. Death of the king of Atlantis on the day of the great sea-fight","type":"page"}